


The Phoenix

by SuperSillyAndDorky06



Series: The Phoenix Saga [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Arranged Marriage, Bratva, But Hot Oliver, Eventual Smut, F/M, Felicity Smoak Is His Lobster, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Jealousy, Marriage of Convenience, Oliver Queen Being an Asshole, Possessive Behavior, Protective Oliver, Romance, Sexual Tension, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, bratva!Oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 126,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3556271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperSillyAndDorky06/pseuds/SuperSillyAndDorky06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity Smoak fell in love with the broody, intense Oliver Queen, Captain of the Russian Bratva, ages ago but he broke her heart. So, when the sudden marriage between them is arranged, she does not understand it and she does not want it. Except Oliver Queen is not only a harder man to live with than she realized, he also has no intention of letting her go.<br/>Mature content. Mild swearing. A lot of sexual tension. And you will want to punch Oliver at times. Kiss him at times ;)<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crumbling Ashes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/gifts), [Lumenka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumenka/gifts).



> Bre. You are amazing. :*  
> Lu, you are my buttercup and my sunshine rolled into one. Thank you for all the translations! ^.^
> 
> So, this idea just popped up in my head one night on the train and once I actually got down to writing it, it was a monster. I'm unleashing it. Bear with me. It is a little dark. Only a little because well, Felicity. Duh.  
> Also, I have a thing called Google that is my guide to all things Russian, so if any Russian is reading this, please correct me if I'm wrong. :)  
> Kudos and comments, guys. Let me know what you thought and if I should continue this.  
> Happy reading :)

He was hot, whoever he was. 

Felicity Smoak peeped inside the room covertly, leaning in slightly towards the cracked opening of her father's plush study. A study that was currently occupied by four men. Sitting on the chair behind the desk was Viktor Orlov, her father. Despite being a man in his early fifties, he had retained his natural stoutness and good looks that had made her mother fall in love with him instantly. He was a fair man, which was saying a lot considering the situations he handled as an elite member of the Russian Mafia, or rather, the Bratva. He could be very harsh at times, but she chalked it up to the stress he faced everyday and did not hold it against him. Not much at least. Her realtionship with him had always been complicated. They loved each other fiercely, but did not express it. 

Flanking her father on his right was Anatoly Knyazev. He was one of the leaders of the Bratva and had a nasty, nasty reputation. Yet, she had seen his jolly good nature, how he had made her laugh and giggle when she was a child, to how he devoted himself to expressing his love for her just so he could remain "her favorite Russian". She shook her head, smiling. He doted upon her and she him in return. But he was not her uncle at the moment. Right now, his entire demeanor screamed business. Right now, he was only Bratva.

The other two men in the room were strangers. The older man must be older than even her father, with pepper and salt hair. His back was to the door, so she couldn't look at him properly from her vantage point. But it was the other man in the room that had captured her attention. He stood slightly behind the older man, with his back to her too, but she could tell even from that how hot he would be. The white shirt he was wearing did nothing to hide how muscular his back was, and if his back was that good, she could only fantasize about his chest. She'd bet her degree he had abs. It seemed like his hands were crossed over his chest from the way his muscles flexed. Her gaze dropped lower and she swallowed. His butt looked cut out of stone. The layer of his jeans just made her want to peel it away and take a bite of that hot piece of ass. 

She gulped. This was so inappropriate. Whoever he was, he was sure inspiring reactions in her she had never felt in her twenty-three years, except... she didn't want to go there. In fact, this lusting after a body seemed slightly out of character for her. She had been seeing half naked men since she was little, with varying degrees of muscles. Being the only daughter of Viktor Orlov had its limitations- one of them being the number of men she had interacted with outside the Bratva, over the years was very limited. Her only relationship had been in college. 

Cooper Sheldon had been her phase of rebellion during her time at MIT. She had changed her appearance and gone goth both because her father's men would have a hard time recognizing her like that and because she could. She had actually thought for a moment that she was in love with him. In fact, she had been about to take the next step in their relationship and sleep with him, when she had found out about the codes. He had been using her for his own projects and the stupid, naive girl that she had been had taken too long to see it. It had almost cost her the degree. 

But well, she was made of sterner stuff. Donna Smoak had raised her with a spine of steel amidst the testosterone overload in the household. Her first show of strength had been going against her father's wishes to retain her mother's maiden name. Her logic had been irrefutable- they lived in Starling City, she was half American and they did not want anybody connecting her to the Bratva. Hence, Smoak all the way. 

So, she had kicked Cooper to the curb, put him on the watchlist on the system, and let him off easy. No one in her family (real or Bratva, it was the same by now) knew about him. Had they, she was sure he would have been dead before he hit the said curb. Her father would have been angry, yes, but it would have been Anatoly who would have absolutely destroyed Cooper. She had always been his princess, and he treasured her like nothing else, because, as his wife and he had never conceived, she was his daughter too. 

After her stint at MIT and the whole Cooper fiasco, she changed her look again, but this time opted to be a shiny blonde and started wearing glasses instead of contacts. Her eyesight, courtesy of her obsession with computers, had given up on her long ago. Donna had been less than thrilled with her new look, her father neutral and Anatoly still grinned, calling her "Моя милая принцесса" like he always had, hair color be damned. Once she was back home, she consulted independently with businesses, secured the servers of the Bratva, even in Russia, while developing her own set of software and earning a small fortune of her own. As a result, her lust had been largely dormant, despite the handsome bodyguard, Roy, that had been assigned to her after she came back home. In fact, after almost four years of him shadowing her, and a few more of knowing him from security, and them bantering with each other, he became a brother to her, like most of the other men. 

Yet, here she was, ogling a man's butt, a stranger's back, and the hormones inside her were roaring for release. She would absolutely let that man pin her against the wall if he wished and let him have his wicked way with her and she hadn't even seen his face! As though her mental voice had been screaming loud enough for him to hear, she saw him freeze and tilt his head slightly to the right, turning it a little. The corded muscles of his neck and shoulders literally beckoned her. Her palm itched with the need to feel that skin. She fisted it.

And then he slowly turned his head, and looked straight at her. The breath left her lungs. No. She shook herself, roaring in denial. No, no, no, no, no. This couldn't be him. She was going insane and hallucinating. Her destiny would not do this to her. But the proof was right before her, staring at her with those once-familiar eyes. Eyes that she knew like she knew her own name. The shades of blue mingled in those eyes and she had analysed them like binary codes. Her knees went weak and she grabbed a hold of the wall beside her, her chest heaving. 

In her own confusion and denial, she did not realize when the door to the study opened and the man who was the reason for her turmoil looked back at her, taking her in like she did to him. Her eyes were wide behind her glasses, still not believing his audacity to actually seek her out. He had changed so much. His hair was closer to his scalp, his body more muscular. He seemed harder. There was a stillness about him that had been absent before. A stillness that freaked her out as he patiently waited for her to react. 

She closed her eyes and counted backwards in her head from hundred, praying that he be gone when she opened them again. She peeked out from one eye, but no such luck. He still stood with those delicious forearms crossed across that delicious chest and that pompous head tilted deliciously. She hated him for being delicious. She hated herself for finding him delicious even now. No. She would not give him the satisfaction. She was made of sterner stuff, she repeated like a mantra, holding his gaze with her chin up. 

But her bravado was false. She knew it. He knew it, and it crumbled within a moment. He took one step forward towards her, she took one back. Pause. Then she turned on her heel and bolted. She ran out of the corridor, as fast as her feet would carry her, ran outside to her favorite hiding spot in the gardens where she generally came to read. Her heart was racing, her mind numb. Her heart was breaking too. 

She could not believe him. He had the gall to seek her out looking so sexy. He had the gall to tempt her. 

That bloody asshole. 

Oliver Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Let me know!
> 
> Also, if check out my soulmate fic Free Fall here (if you haven't) : http://archiveofourown.org/works/3397049/chapters/7434578
> 
> Say hi to me on  
> Tumblr : supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com  
> Twitter @dorky06


	2. Igniting Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a flash back to three years ago, to their very first meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, a lot of people wanted me to continue this fic and continue this I shall. :)  
> Here's the next chapter. Anything Russian is Google and the lovely Lumenka :)  
> Let we know what you felt, guys.  
> Kudos and comments :D  
> Happy reading.

The first time Felicity Smoak saw Oliver Queen, she fell. No, not for him. No, not on her knees due to his unreal hotness. Nope, it wasn't anything romantic at all. She literally fell, with him above her. She was pretty sure she had broken bones. Not. Here's how it happened:

Felicity had just returned home from her Saturday morning coffee with her best friend, Sara Lance. They had met at college and clicked instantly, and while Sara had dropped out and gone in to become a fitness trainer, they had kept in touch. She had been back in Starling for a year now, graduating early at 19 at the top of her class, so they started having coffee every Saturday morning and gossiping about their lives. Today's intel had been on the failing relationship of her sister Laurel and Tommy Merlyn, playboy of Starling.While Felicity didn't really know Laurel, and had gotten a cold shoulder every time they met, she was a little slow to sympathize. She had been allowed friends outside the Bratva, only she had to be extra careful choosing them, and Roy had to accompany her whenever she went to meet one of them. She had relented considering Roy was awesome and fun under all his macho, broody crap. 

She grinned.

Leaving him outside, she just walked inside the house, towards her room from the corridor that led to her father's study, looking down at her phone and trying to figure out a cryptic puzzle game. The sun was filtering in through the large windows and she was just at the turn to her room when she hit a wall. The phone dropped from her palm and her arms flailed around wildly, trying to hold something but the impact was so strong that she knew she was going to fall. So, she closed her eyes and latched onto the only solid thing and before she knew it, the wall fell with her, on her, knocking the breath out of her.

"Fuck."

Huh. Maybe she hit her head too hard. She didn't think walls could curse. Although, a tribe in Asia believed that walls had ears and could hear everything. They could also speak but the frequency was too low for human ears. Maybe, she had unknowingly tapped into that frequency. That would be genius actually.

A huff of air over her face startled her. Did that wall just _chuckle_?

"I am not a wall." 

A low, husky voice said, from right above her. Her eyes flew open. And latched on to a pair of a startling shade of blue and grey. She took in his face- the square jaw dusted with a day old stubble, the straight nose, the broad forehead, the dark browinsh hair, the soft, plump lips, the mole at the corner of that mouth. She took in everything and realized that he wasn't a wall, but a man. A very well-muscled man from the feel of him. And feel him she did. From where her breasts were pressed against his hard, solid chest, to the hips that were being cradled by her, to the strong thighs she could feel pulsing beside hers, to the biceps that were clenching with the weight of his torso, to the shoulders she was gripping for her life. She felt him. She took him in. She realized that he was doing his own perusal and she could feel the result of that perusal against her hip, slowly coming alive.

She gulped and said. "I know you're not a wall. I'm pretty sure walls don't have erections. Ew, that was a weird image. Huh." Her eyes widened. "Not that I'm commenting on your erection. It feels like a really nice erection. Although I think erections are more naughty than nice. Not that I'm saying you're having naughty thoughts. Well, obviously you are, since well, hello, erection! You erection is like solid. Huh, well erections are supposed to be or the entire biological purpose of invading the cave kind of fails. Your wouldn't. I'm sure it's the Indiana Jones of erections."

He barked out a laugh above her, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Can you please stop saying 'erection'?"

Felicity flushed under his close scrutiny. "Yeah, sure. If you can please get off me. Not that I'm uncomfortable, I'm enjoying this _one-on-one_ meeting very much but if anyone saw us, they might just slit your throat. So, really you're welcome, since I'm saving your life."

He smiled, gave his arms a push and got up with such athletic grace that she sat on her butt and stared for a while. He then put out his hand for her and she took it. His palm was rough, like he was used to doing hard work with them. He pulled her up purely with his own strength and she gasped. He was _huge_! No wonder she had thought he was a wall! She had to tilt her head way back to look at him, from her vantage point at his shoulder. 

He cleared his throat. 

She blushed. "Dude, I'm not even going to apologize for ogling you when you just had your, um, _manhood_ pressed against my stomach. You are huge!"

He laughed. "I have been told that on occasion." 

"I did not mean that like," Felicity sighed. "You know what, I'm not going to try and correct it because it's just going to get worse. Anyways, why were you lurking around the corner waiting to assault unsuspecting girls with your wallness, if that's a word?" 

He tilted his head to a side and she squirmed under his piercing gaze. "I wasn't lurking. I was trying to find Mr. Orlov's office."

Her eyebrows rose well into her forehead. "And why would you be trying to find that?"

His eyes measured her from her blonde head to her pink toes. "That is your business how?"

"Let's just say I keep a track of things around here. Are you Bratva?" Felicity asked with her trademark bluntness.

His lips tilted up, amused by her attitude. "If I say I am?"

"I'll say you should have done your homework. And I don't mean anything dirty by 'homework', in case your mind decided to go that way." Was this banter flirting? Was she really flirting with a strange man in her own house? She never thought that would happen, like ever.

Before she could blink, she was suddenly pressed against the wall, his hard body pressing hers again, this time vertically. She swallowed. He loomed above her, his hands pressed beside her head and his hips keeping her prisoner. She hadn't been this close to anybody since Cooper and suddenly she was scared. "I have just flown a long way and I'm tired and sleep-deprived and I will find that damn office, but first, understand this. I'm here to stay for a while, and you, солнешко, have captured my attention. You have fascinated me and I am not a man you wanted to do that to."

Her breathing fastened as he came closer, so close he was nearly one with her. He spoke, right against her mouth and tiny shivers raced down her body. "And now that I'm piqued, which is a feat considering women everywhere have been trying so hard,but you did it so effortlessly, you will see what will happen. You, I am going to have. You, I am going to see writhing under me. You, I am going to make scream until you're hoarse. Make note of that."

The vivid imagery had her chest heaving, colliding with his, every heave, every brush, igniting her senses more. She inhaled, her breath mingling with his. "No, you are not."

His eyes lit up with challenge. "Yes, I am. You are going to want me to." He nipped her chin slightly, roughly. "I do get what I want. And starting now, I want you."

His determination was as arousing as it was infuriating. Suddenly, he took a few steps away, leaving her against the wall by herself, her knees trembling like jelly as she saw him opposite her, standing straight. No one could have said that this man had had an erection five seconds ago. She was equally awed and intimidated by his restraint. Her confusion for his sudden change evaporated when she saw Anatoly walk down the corridor towards them, with a smile on his face. The smile faltered when he saw her, leaning against the wall like that. A clouded expression crossed his face as he spoke, "Who did this to you, Моя милая принцесса?" 

Felicity's eyes glanced at the man opposite her before moving to her Uncle's. She sighed. "Nobody did anything, Anatoly. You know how clumsy I am. I just fell down and this good man helped me up."

Felicity saw the momentary surprise in the man's eyes disappear beneath a cool mask as Anatoly turned to him in relief. "I must thank you for doing that, Oliver."

He addressed Anatoly but Oliver's eyes held hers, conveying a silent message she understood all too well. "No problem. The pleasure was all mine."

Felicity flushed at the slight innuendo as her uncle turned to her. "This is Oliver Queen. He just came back from Russia this morning."

Well, that explained the travel comment. Felicity smiled courteously. "I am Felicity Smoak."

"It's a _pleasure_ to meet you, Felicity." His voice wrapped around her name like a caress she could almost feel. She shivered slightly, admitting to herself at least, that this man registered on her heat-o-meter like none before.

Anatoly's voice interrupted, pleasant but steely. "She is Orlov's daughter, and like my own. I know your ways with women, son. You keep those ways out of this house, you understand?"

Oliver looked at Anatoly, measuring in the man's expression, his own betraying nothing as he nodded after a moment. He turned to hold Felicity's gaze again as he addressed the older man. "I'll keep them out of this house."

Oh boy. That did not sound like a by-your-leave at all.

Anatoly nodded, completely oblivious to the undercurrent between them. "Good. Now, Orlov is impressed with you and you know how hard it is with that old man." He chuckled. "Come, we should talk."

Oliver gave her a polite nod, the heat in his eyes belying the politeness. "Till next time, Ms. Smoak."

She nodded back. "Mr. Queen." His eyes flared at that and he felt like he was going to take a step forward, but he abruptly turned to follow her uncle down the hall. She stood staring at his back, knowing he was coming for her soon, his determination was too real for her to question that, and she had no idea how to stop him. She wasn't even sure she wanted to. She bent to pick up her phone, which was destroyed now, and exhaled loudly.

The first time Felicity Smoak saw Oliver Queen, she fell. She fell down the rabbit hole. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine (Courtesy of Lumenka)  
> Моя милая принцесса - My Little Princess
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. Let me know what you thought of it.  
> Kudos and comments, peeps.  
> Also, if check out my soulmate fic Free Fall here (if you haven't) : http://archiveofourown.org/works/3397049/chapters/7434578
> 
> Say hi to me on  
> Tumblr : supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com  
> Twitter @dorky06


	3. Fanning Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a continuation of the flashback itself. Set soon after their first meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone for such an amazing response to this story. I was a little apprehensive at first, but you have reassured me and voila, I've hopped on!  
> Here's the next chapter for you wonderful peeps! This one is way longer than the others and it's set only a few weeks after our babies' first meeting.  
> The Russian is all the amazing Lumenka. Even Google acknowledges her translations. She is a goddess! :D  
> And this story is going to be way longer than I had originally thought. It's basically turned into a monster up here *points to head*  
> Also, some cursing. Some caveman tactics. Beware.  
> Remember, kudos and comments, guys.  
> Happy reading :)

Three Weeks, Two Days, Seven Hours and Some Minutes Since the First Meeting Later (Not that she was counting or anything)

Everyone laughed. Felicity swallowed and sipped her wine, aware of the gazes scrutinizing each other covertly.

Her father was hosting a small dinner party tonight. Only the Bratva was present with their families and the group expanded up to more than twenty people or so, and that was excluding all the little midgets. The house was lit up, the dining hall felt and looked lavish with the blood red drapes and the chandelier and the candles on the long table. She sat beside Anatoly somewhere in the middle. The head of the table, at one end, was occupied by her father, while her mother sat on the other end like a queen. Pun not intended.

Her eyes drifted to the pun in question, seated right opposite her. Oliver Queen. The man simply fascinated her. He was full of secrets and mysteries and lord knew how much she loved mysteries. Well, solving them. His handsome face was wearing a polite mask with a smile that looked so fake it seemed like he wasn't even trying. His gorgeous eyes looked dull as he listened to some person from somewhere drone on and on about his first hit. His eyes were more haunted than dull and god knows why, she wanted to erase that look from his face.

It had been three weeks since their very heated first meeting. Since then, her father had kept him more occupied than anyone she had seen before. Her father and Anatoly, both hard men to impress, also had a very, very high regard for him and that told her a lot. First, this man was danger-on-legs and he was really good at it. Second, he was quickly rising within the Bratva and soon might even be a Captain himself, which was as rare for an American as it was to see flying pigs, which was like never. And third, he was not here just to do business with her father. For three weeks, Felicity had observed him from afar, reading him and it was not easy, but she came to the conclusion that he had a reason for being here- a reason he was very clearly keeping to himself and a reason she wanted to get out because whatever this man was, he was definitely threatening.

They had hardly interacted for the three weeks (and two days, seven hours; she totally wasn't counting), yet his promise that day was imprinted on her brain. She had been waiting for the other shoe to drop for a while and it hadn't and that only made her more jittery. She was in unfamiliar territory here. Yet, that troubled, dull look in his eyes made her want to shield him from the mundane conversation and worthless facades. She was surprised at her own protective reaction of him. She barely even knew the man! Except his erection, she knew that well.

An idea came into her head and she inconspicuously looked around, seeing who was where. Roy stood near the entrance with a few other body guards, broody and handsome, all familiar faces except one- the African-American who looked like Hulk dipped in caramel. He was gigantic and he was, by her sleuthing of three weeks, Oliver Queen's bodyguard. Although why he needed a bodyguard was beyond her. His own arms were bulging with muscles. Anyhow, knowing that nobody could see what she was going to do, she took a deep breath, her insides quivering like jelly, and slowly moved her heeled foot forward.

Her toes made contact with his seriously muscled calf (lord, was the man carved out of stone!) the same moment his head shot up towards her, the naked surprise evident in his eyes. He just looked at her for a few moments, the conversation around them getting farther and farther away from her, before the surprise turned into amusement. At least she had successfully erased that dead look off his face. She smiled, satisfied and started to pull back her foot when she felt his hand, rough and warm, grip her ankle. Her breath hitched and she gasped out loud.

Everyone stopped the conversation, looking at her in varying degrees of concern. Donna voiced it. "Are you alright, dear?"

Felicity breathed in, trying to swallow and she would have been successful, but then his hand moved, from her ankle, slowly up and up her calf, creating delicious sensations that wracked her entire body. She shivered. "Yes. It's just the wine. It went the wrong way."

Donna shook her head reverently and the table relaxed and continued on with the mutterings. Felicity, in the meantime, was getting wound up tighter and tighter with every circle Oliver drew upon her leg, every alphabet in whatever language he wrote. She had never experienced this before, this heady sensation of floating above a cliff, just getting ready to fall. She felt hot, feverish. And if his scorching eyes were anything to go by, he was remembering his promise too.

"So, Oliver," her father's voice cut through the haze around them. "What do you think about that?"

About what? Felicity was so lost she hadn't even heard the conversation. She thought his hand would halt its ministrations, now that people were speaking directly to him. But, she underestimated him perhaps. The dining table cloth hid anything his hand was doing, but even then it was risky. Yet, Oliver just gazed back at her father in a calm manner and spoke, his voice business-like, all the while brushing his rough fingers over her soft skin, driving her madder by the minute.

"Well, I think it's a waste of money, to be honest," Oliver said, sipping his scotch with his free hand, which wasn't occupied in writing sex on her leg. "Investing with someone like Holder will not only lead the police to evidence of our identities but also endanger the family."

How the hell had he been able to even concentrate on the conversation around him? He had to be smarter than she thought. Maybe that was his super power- being professional while driving innocent girls to their doom. She swallowed a giggle.

"I disagree," a new voice spoke from somewhere on her right. Ray Palmer. She groaned. God, the guy was a douche. Well, he wasn't that bad but he just stared at her a little too intensely at times and it creeped her out. But, she had to hand it to him. When it came to weapons, he was a genius. "Holder is the best option on the market. If we don't contract him, someone else will. People gobble up technology fast." His eyes turned to her. Cue creepy stare. "Isn't that right, Felicity?"

He drilled her with his stare while she gave him what she hoped was the semblance of a smile. The hand on her leg stopped. Oliver looked at Palmer and his grip tightened. "Why are you dragging her into weapons, Palmer?"

Palmer's eyes cut to him. "I wasn't. She's a tech whiz, so I asked for her opinion." He stared back at her. "I mean, how many beautiful, smart girls do you see around, huh?"

Oliver was staring at Palmer with murder in his eyes. She was actually scared he would do something, his grip on her leg getting tighter and tighter. She kicked him in the shin and brought his eyes back to her. The murder slowly drained out and he sighed. His hand let go of her leg and brought it up on the table, cracking his knuckles. Bloody men and their testosterone having no appreciation for her poor ovaries.

Anatoly choked on his wine. "Felicity, what is wrong with you?"

Felicity looked at him, confused and looked back at Oliver. He was hiding his grin behind his palm and her eyes widened. Shit. She said it out loud. Inhaling deeply, she faced her Uncle. "What?"

Anatoly looked a little flustered and if she hadn't been so embarrassed herself, she might have actually enjoyed it. "You just said men and testosterone, well, umm, had no regard for your, umm, ovaries."

The entire table had stopped chatting and looked at her, horrified. All except one. Oliver fucking Queen was enjoying this, looking at her with eyebrows raised in challenge, waiting to see how she got out of this one.

"Well, you don't," she said with authority. "You men on your testosterone high don't even realize that talking about weapons that kill people might be a little too much for my delicate sensitivities."

Her father gazed at her and smiled. "You are many things, Felicity. Delicate, you are not, much to my worry."

She flushed. Anatoly looked on. "Why did you say that?"

She looked around at all the expectant faces, turning redder by the second, feeling the walls closing in on her. She had to get out. That was the only way. She stood up from the table a little clumsily, her red dress looking stark in comparison to the muted colors everyone else wore, and put her chin up, "I'm afraid the wine is getting to me. If you would all excuse me from this lovely dinner, I shall retire to my room."

Donna nodded and so did her father. Without looking back at anyone, she quickly walked out of the hall, not heading towards her room but the gardens, to her secret spot where no one came. The moon looked beautiful in its flaws, perfectly round and casting a slight glow upon everything it touched. The spot was hidden behind trees, bathed in moonlight and the grass was so thick it cushioned. The smell of leaves and raw nature was making her feel better. The noise in the house was distant, the noise of small crickets enveloping her. This was her peaceful place, away from all the chaos of her life.

She stood staring at the moon, not trying to think about anything, when leaves crunched behind her. It must be Roy checking up on her like he did at times.

"It's okay, Roy," she said without turning around, giggling. "My ovaries are just fine."

"Well, that's too bad. I was hoping to change that."

She whirled around to see Oliver behind her, so close that she could touch him if she lifted up her hand. She turned her fingers into a fist, resisting that urge. He looked beautiful in the moonlight. Almost like a warrior from centuries ago, waiting under the dark cloak of the night, with the moon as his guide, for his beloved before going into battle. And she was reading too many romances before bed.

She shook her head and turned her back towards him, without saying anything, and resumed her own silent perusal of the moon. He erased the distance between them and she waited with baited breath to see what he would do. His solid body cushioned her soft one from behind, his hands coming up around her to entwine with her smaller ones on her stomach. His chin propped up on her head and he released a deep breath, the tension in his body melting away, and she felt her own body curve into his, fascinated.

"Thank you," he spoke, so soft that no one but her could hear him. "For what you did inside to distract me."

She kept her eyes on the moon, but answered him. "Why did you need a distraction, in the first place?"

He paused for a second, then spoke in the same hushed tone. "My mind is a dark place, солнешко. You don't want to know why I do what I do. But I'm surprised you read my discomfort at all. I thought I was hiding it well."

She snorted. "Yeah, right. I read people easily. I have since I was a kid. They are like computers too, only a little more complicated." She breathed in, too. "Why are you here? Not that I mind, you are quite the comfortable cushion. You don't look like you would be with all those muscles fighting for room on that body. Totally not the point. The point is why are you here? And how did you find this place?"

"How I found this place is my secret," she heard the smile in his voice. "As for why, you looked awfully feverish in there. I just wanted to check on you."

Felicity clacked her tongue, shaking her head again with smile. "Liar, liar, pants on fire."

She felt him lean forward, his lips brushing her industrial piercing as his hips ground into hers. "Wrong, sweetheart. My body is on fire."

That one statement put hers aflame. Her chest heaved a little, her breath willowing out in small gasps. No. She could not let her body over rule her mind. She had to stay focused, which was a little hard, umm, no pun intended, considering her position. Ugh. How could she focus when her mind was as big a horndog as her body? She collected herself and spoke firmly. "Look, I get that stuff went a little too far inside, but let me be clear on one thing," her voice steeled, despite the fever she was in, "I am not going to be one of those girls who fall at your feet and you use them and then you go away on your merry way. For one, I have more self-respect than that, and two, my family will kill you before you can blink."

He took a hold of her chin and turned her face towards him, grounding his hips harder into her back, letting her feel all of him. She blinked up at the heat on his face, so near hers their breaths were mingling, but his voice came out sterner than hers had. "And let me be clear on one thing, немного солнечный свет- I don't want you falling at my feet, I want you falling in my bed, under me. I know my own reputation and yes I have earned it," his face softened a little, "but I will _not_  do that to you. Not because I am scared of your family. I am not, I can keep my own with them, but because I respect you too, little genius."

His hand cupped her cheek, searching her eyes. She looked down at his Adam's apple, unable to meet his gaze, whispering, moved by what he said yet not believing it. "I don't do relationships, well, of any kind. Well, except one, in college. But he was a jerk. He used me and I'm not sure I even want to go down that road physically at all." Straightening her spine, she looked up at him again. "So stop tempting me, because as hot as I find you, I'm not sleeping with you. Do whatever you came here to do and then leave, I don't care. Just stay away from me."

She started to take a step away but his hand tightened on her hips, keeping her prisoner. He took a deep breath, then ground out. "Give. Me. His. Name."

Her gaze incredulous, she turned her head to look at him again. " _That_ is what you got from my speech?"

Before she could even breathe, he had them turned around, towards the wall of the house in the the clearing, her front pressed to the brick and her back pressed hot and tight against him. He was surrounding her, and she knew she only had to scream to get free, but deep down, she didn't want to. He _thrilled_ her. And weirdly, she felt safer there with him than she did with Roy, or even her father, at her side. 

"No, Felicity," he wrapped his lips around her lobe, murmuring softly. "What I got from that were only two things. You had a fucking boy break your trust and scare you off men, and that you want me, more than you want and it scares you. So I am going to fix both these things. First up- who the fuck was he?" He growled in her ear and her arms sprouted with goosebumps. He took the said arms and placed them behind her, around his neck, allowing him complete access to her front that was still against the wall. "Tell me his name."

She shivered, her core throbbing with every breath. "No."

"Stubborn girl." He cursed, turning her chin towards him and swooping down. He took her lower lip between his own and bit it, hard. She moaned, the pleasure rocking straight to her core, melting it. He nibbled on her lip, feasting on it, and she was sure it would be very, very swollen later. She didn't care. Releasing her lip with a plop, he looked at her, his pupils completely dilated, the desire so very evident to her everywhere. "I'll let it go for now, but know this. As long as I'm here, you are mine. Only mine. God help any man who even looks at you the way Palmer did."

A laugh bubbled out, despite itself. "You sound like the a stalker guy from one of those creepy movies."

He smiled a little, cupping her cheek softly. "I will never hurt you, baby." His expression hardened. "But anyone who tries to will go through me."

Her laughter died on her lips. She had had men claim that all her life. Yet there was something about his intensity that unnerved her even as it ignited her. She searched his eyes this time, finding nothing but absolute honesty, and asked, whispering, "Why? You don't even know me."

He just shrugged slightly, his tender gaze caressing her face. He released her, taking a step back. She turned to face him, confusion at his action wide in her eyes. He looked away, towards the house and sighed, his invisible armor going back up, like he was going into war.

He had probably done this to a billion girls to get them in bed. But why her? She knew she was crazy smart, and pretty too, in a nerdy way, but she also knew she was not his type. So, why did he want to seduce her? He was already in Bratva and rising so that didn't sound like motivation.

"You're thinking out loud, by the way." She flushed, thankfully hidden in the darkness. He continued, amusement clear in his voice. "And while we are at it, no, I'm not going to kill you and stash your body away, or use your computer skills to dominate the earth or whatever crazy theory you are cooking up in that brain of yours. It's simple. I'm a man and I've wanted you since I fell on you and that's it."

She crossed her arms across her chest, and unknowingly, pushed her cleavage a little higher under her fiery dress. "So you just want to bang me?"

His lips twitched, eyes flickering momentarily to her cleavage, then coming back to hers. "Bang? Among other things."

"And after you're done? What then?"

His corner of his lips tilted up more and a predatory gleam entered his eyes. "Then I do it again, and again, and again."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, McSmutty. What about _after_ you're _completely_ satisfied? We go our separate ways? You onto other women, me onto other men?"

His hands gripped her right above the elbows, pulling her into him, his voice harsh. "There will be no _other men_ at all. I don't share what's mine."

She gulped, her hands coming to rest on his chest. She felt his heart beating right beneath her palm, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers. His hands left her arms and traveled, brushing the side of her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat as her nipples hardened. He smirked slightly. The bastard. He was killing her and he _knew_ it! 

With a sudden burst of courage, she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down. She saw the surprise in his eyes a second before she closed hers and bit _his_ lower lip, nibbling it the way he had. Her nails scratched his stubble, holding his ears. Passion burst between them, their bodies molding together, so tight against each other there was no space for even air left. She put her tongue out and licked a stripe across the seam of his mouth, swallowing his groan that rumbled from his chest into hers. His palms came up, cupping her breasts solidly, engulfing them as he squeezed slightly, pinching her nipples and making her arch her spine to get closer. She felt wet, molten, her body pliable in his sure hands. Their mouths separated, breathing harsh, noses brushing.

"Fuck, I can take you right here," he said through clenched teeth, trying clearly to get the bulge in his trousers under control. Seeing him so unwound made her realize her own feminine power, relish it. She had a clear effect on him and she loved it.

"I still won't sleep with you," she murmured against his lips.

"Why the hell not?"

She took a deep breath, taking a few steps back, straightening her dress and her hair. Then, she looked at him calmly and spoke, "I still stand by what I said. I kissed you because you were challenging me. I don't like being challenged. But i won't be another notch on your bedpost."

"Liar," he ground out, his shoulders dropping. He ran a frustrated hand over his head, then captured her eyes again. "That is not the actual reason and you bloody well know it. You want me. But won't act on it. Why?"

This time, it was she who erased the distance between them, tilting her head back to look at him with wide, vulnerable eyes. " Because I'm scared as hell. I don't know you at all. You scare me," she confessed. She didn't know why she admitted that to him. She hardly ever did to anybody.

He gazed back at her, breathing with her. His hands came up to cup her cheeks and he softly said, "Then, know me. Trust me."

She searched his eyes for the longest time as he held her gaze. Then, she rose up on her tiptoes, winding her arms around his neck, and captured his mouth with hers, surrendering herself to his heat.

Some deep-rooted instinct told her he could be trusted. 

She only trusted that instinct again for one more week. Never again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading. Let me know what you thought of it.  
> Kudos and comments, peeps.  
> Also, if check out my soulmate fic Free Fall here (if you haven't) : http://archiveofourown.org/works/3397049/chapters/7434578
> 
> Say hi to me on  
> Tumblr : supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com  
> Twitter @dorky06


	4. Rising Smoak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone. I'm back! :D
> 
> Firstly, this chapter is long and a little angsty (maybe, more than a little) but it was definitely difficult to write.  
> Secondly, I didn't want to drag the past too long so this is the last flashback chapter. We'll get to the better stuff in the next :D  
> Also, I want to thank Lumenka, again, for the correct translation that even Google acknowledged! You are wonderful!!!  
> And remember, kudos and comments, guys. :)  
> Happy reading!!!

A Week After the Dinner Footsies and Garden Shenanigans

 

Never let it be said that Felicity Smoak did not know how to be a tease. She gave as good as she got, and she was getting plenty. Sitting outside in the sun, under the shade of her umbrella, she surreptitiously watched over the top of her specs, the three sweaty men in combat not more than twenty feet away. This was certainly nothing new for her. In fact, she had often come out as a child and watched the men train and fight together while reading a book or munching on food. The men were just as used to her presence there. And as she had mentioned, she was like a little sister to most of them. 

But today was a different day. She held her tall, chilled glass of lemonade against the skin of her neck, that was hot both from the sun and the show proceeding before her. And boy, was it a show! Oliver was fighting two men simultaneously- his Hulky bodyguard, Diggle (whose name she had learned when Oliver had cursed it out in the middle of a heated make out session, being interrupted by his clearing throat. One shall not even get into her reaction to being discovered like that), and Nik, one of Anatoly's best men.

She had heard around the house, whispers about the new American man, about how lethal and sharp he was, how smart and well-acclimated with the business. People were starting to respect his name. Those who didn't respect it were the ones who feared it. She had kept her ears to the ground and heard it all, feeling a secret thrill that the same man was her almost lover, too. For an entire week, they had been stealing kisses and moments, mostly in her spot in the garden. Sometimes he would pass her in the corridor and press her against the wall, ravishing her mouth with his desire swirling in his eyes, and walk away before someone could catch them. Sometimes, she would sneak past Roy and go to his room on the other side of the house, and they would talk a little and kiss a lot. It was dangerous and stupid but it was also hers. And when they were in company, he acted completely polite and cordial, like he didn't know the taste of her mouth, the sounds she made when her desire rose, the way she impaled his shoulders with her nails trying to get closer to his body.

But as much as she had heard about him, she had never seen him in action. That was being corrected quite thoroughly right now and she was gawking. Unabashedly. Although Diggle and Nik were both absolutely huge, and that was saying something considering the sheer size of Oliver himself, they were both no match for his skill. His shirtless body moved with panther-like grace, fast and swift and fierce, attacking before the two opponents even had a chance to defend themselves. Felicity was on the edge of her seat, both with anticipation and arousal, watching the naked muscles unleash themselves completely, in a manner he never did with her. For all his growly caveman tactics, Oliver's touch on her was delicate but firm, a nod to her own smaller size and maybe some tender feelings. She hoped.

Oliver knew she was watching them and he was putting forward a really good performance. Show off. She grinned slightly.

Within five minutes, he had them disarmed and down on the soft grass with a triumphant grin on his face. She watched him move around like a caged tiger, cracking his neck, the bruise on his ribs, courtesy of the one good kick Diggle got in, turning an ugly shade of bluish-purple. She didn't even want to look at the other two, shuddering.

Then, Oliver turned his body. To all the guards standing in different places around the area, it would seem like Oliver was looking at the house, lost in his thoughts. But she knew better. She knew he was taking her in, lounging on her seat in a gauzy white tank top and jeans shorts, taking in her reaction to the fight he put up. A wicked smile crossed her face as she slowly picked up the glass from beside her and held the cooling beverage right against the side of her neck, opening her lips in a slight exhale and watched him clench his jaw with hooded eyes. She'd give him a show, too.

Getting up from the lounger and making a show of working her own kinks out, she stretched her arms above her head, pushing out her breasts, her midriff winking out from the top that had ridden up. His eyes were on her, she knew. She smiled, crossing the veranda to lean her elbows against the banister that separated the training field from her, her drink in her hand. Keeping her eyes locked on his face, that was darkening with each passing second, she extended her tongue out to catch the straw, drawing it into her mouth and sucking it _hard_. Her cheeks hollowed out slightly and she let the straw pop free. Then, she swirled it again with her tongue, caught it and sucked like earlier.

Oliver shifted and strode towards the bench in front of the banister that had his bag.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed only for her ears, pretending to be searching for his t-shirt in the bag.

Felicity smirked, glorying in this feminine power over him. "You gave me a show. I just returned the favor to you."

"And ten other men!" he growled under his breath. 

"Then why don't you do something about it?" she challenged, knowing he wanted to get her alone and stake his claim. And though the feminist in her rebelled against his high-handed antics, the woman in her was thrilled.

Oliver's head shot up at her words, his mouth forming in a low snarl and he was about to take a step towards her, right in front of all of her father's men, when she saw Diggle running towards him. Oliver stood still as he listened to whatever Diggle whispered, then closed his eyes and fought for control.

"Meet me in later and I'll do a lot about it," he whispered softly, checking her out once and leaving towards the house. 

She felt Diggle's eyes on her and looked at him, raising her brows. Diggle hesitated, then murmured, "Be careful, Ms. Smoak. You're playing with fire."

Felicity frowned, not understanding what he meant. Before she could ask him though, he followed after his boss, leaving her with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Diggle was Oliver's bodyguard. He had nothing against her. Why would her warn her off him?

Shrugging it off, she went inside the house, ready to do some actual work, even though it was a Sunday, rather than mooning and dreaming and making out and falling. Yes. She knew she was falling for Oliver Queen but why shouldn't she? He was very physical, and no matter his veiled threats of humping the daylights out of her, he had never crossed a line which she wasn't comfortable crossing. In only a week of secret rendezvouses, he knew more about her life than anyone else. They made out a lot, sure, but they talked too. Well, she talked mostly, and he listened to everything she said so attentively, like every word coming out of her mouth was a prized possession.

She told had him about her childhood- how Anatoly would always get her ice-cream and a hug when she was low, how her mom would always insist on colors for Felicity's wardrobe, how her father never let her touch his gun, what being an only child, a young genius girl growing up in the middle of brawny men was like. She told him about college- about her joy when she got accepted into MIT only at 16, about her fights with her father regarding her surname and going to a different city for three years, about meeting Cooper (but seeing the slight pursing of his lips, she'd distracted him by giving him a sweet kiss, which had turned into a full-blown kissing marathon, but that wasn't the point), about meeting Sara and finding her first girl-friend in her, about their Saturday morning rituals and gossips (what she didn't tell him was how Sara had told her she was glowing yesterday at coffee and she was sure it was because of a guy. Felicity had blushed profusely), about starting her own business that was just taking off, about getting Roy as a bodyguard and finding a brother in him. 

She told him a lot. She frowned slightly, realizing that for everything she had told him, he had told her what she could easily find online or already knew- that he had a baby sister (who he adored), his parents were murdered when he had been 15 and he had joined the Bratva as its youngest member ever, he had lived in Russia for two years before returning to Starling, where he learned combat and weapons, he was five years older than her, he didn't think he would ever get married (she had frowned at that one), and that Diggle had been his bodyguard for half a decade.

There was something nagging at her but she ignored it. She was happy and her brain was just cooking up issues where they were none. Taking a deep breath, she strolled through the parlor, towards her home office beside her bedroom when Roy intercepted her. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes hard and scary.

"Roy, what are.." she started but Roy cut her off with a curt, "Come with me."

Trusting him implicitly, she followed him into her own office, watched him lock the door and shut off the cameras, then check the entire area for bugs. Once he was certain the place was clean, he turned to a very confused Felicity. "Roy, what's going on?"

"You have been bugged," he stated, placing a small chip on the table. She picked it up to examine it while Roy continued, "I called you yesterday when you were out and it wouldn't go through. So I checked your phone when you came back and found this under the battery. I broke it. You know anything about it?"

Felicity scowled. "You think I would carry a bug in my phone, genius?"

It was tiny, something the naked eye could not notice at once, something that could have been slipped inside easily.

Roy crouched down in front of her, looking at her with concern. "Look, Felicity, can you think of anybody who would've wanted to hear your conversations? Maybe, a business rival, an enemy, anyone?"

Felicity slipped off her glasses and pinched her nose. "There are a lot of enemies of the Bratva, Roy."

"But they don't link you to the brotherhood," Roy pointed out. "Your father made certain that didn't happen. So think?"

She buried her face in her hands in frustration. "I don't know! Who would want to do that?" Suddenly her eyes widened, "Have you told anyone yet?"

Roy shook his head. "No, I wanted to check it with you first."

Felicity nodded, an idea forming in her head. "Good. Don't tell anyone about this yet." She put up a hand when he opened his mouth to talk. "I want to run a trace on this chip and gather some evidence before telling anyone. Promise me?"

Roy measured her for a second before nodding and going to the door. "But you find something, you come to me."

"No one else I would go to."

But there was now. As soon as Roy was down the stairs, Felicity got up and ran on quick feet down a familiar path to the room on the other side of the house. She had known with one look at the chip that it was untraceable. But Roy didn't know that and she knew of one person with solid connections who could help her _and_ keep this quiet. Oliver. He would help her.

She came to stop outside his door, wondering why Diggle wasn't standing there looking at her with disapproval like every other time she had been there. Maybe, he was freshening up. She raised her hand to knock on the door but stopped suddenly, listening to Diggle's raised voice coming from behind it. 

"When are you going to tell me exactly what you are up to, Oliver?" he demanded.

"Keep your voice down, Digg," Oliver's own hard voice countered.

Felicity stopped. Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise. Maybe, now wasn't a good time. She turned around to leave when her own name stopped her in her tracks.

"And what about Ms. Smoak?" Diggle asked, voice comparatively quieter than before.

"What about her?" Oliver's tone held a slight warning. A sudden chill ran down her spine.

"What are you doing with her, Oliver? I know you don't love her but..."

Oliver interrupted. "I don't love any woman, except my sister. You know that, Digg."

Felicity swallowed, her heart sinking at the words. She knew it was mostly physical attraction between them. Yet, she hadn't realized how much she had come to care for him, even fall slightly in love with him, till he stashed all her secret hopes. Still, staying in the moment, Felicity leaned against the wall beside the door and waited for the lull in the conversation to finish. The old saying about eavesdroppers never hearing good about themselves came to her but she discarded it quickly. This was just Diggle being curious because Oliver was not supposed to be with her under her own roof. That was all.

Diggle exhaled loudly. "Oliver, just tell me man."

A drawer opened and something light was thrown on a table. Diggle's voice came back again. "Who is she?"

"Sara Lance."

Felicity's body froze. What? Surely, it couldn't be her _Sara._ But how many Sara Lances existed? That too in Starling? And why were they talking about her? It was too much to be a coincidence, her rational mind knew, her emotions in turmoil.

As if in answer, Oliver explained to Diggle, "Orlov called me a week before I was supposed to board my flight from Moscow, faxing me this file. Said this was the mission, a test for my next position in the brotherhood." 

Her father? She got more and more confused.

"She's a well-known associate of the Triad in Starling, has been ever since she was 17. She works undercover and is highly skilled."

"You found this in a week from Moscow?" Diggle's disbelief was evident. But it was nothing compared to Felicity's. No. They were definitely talking about some other Sara. They had to be. Her Sara wouldn't hurt a dog, much less work with the Chinese Mafia. They were definitely talking about someone else.

"I found this in a day," Oliver countered. "What I found out in a week of having her followed is that her family is completely clueless about her, she lives a very normal, boring life as a cover, and her best friend happens to be one Felicity Smoak."

Felicity's heart was pounding in her chest. This felt like a dream, a really, _really_ bad dream and she was going to wake up any second now. But she did not. She couldn't process this, her mind denying all the implications.

Oliver continued, unaware of the bundle of nerves right outside his door. "Orlov asked me to bring her in. We get her, we get the right arm of Triad here in the city."

Diggle sighed. "Okay. I get this, but how is your secret rendezvousing with Ms. Smoak going to help here? There has to be more to this than you're telling me."

"There is," Oliver uttered in that aloof tone. "I'm going to challenge Orlov's position and to do that, I need the people in this brotherhood to understand how ruthless I am. I need to bring down Orlov and for that I need leverage. You tell me, what better leverage is there to use against him than his own daughter?"

The breath left her body. She slowly slunk down against the wall because her legs just could not support her anymore. No. No. NO.

That was the only word in her head. NO. NO. NO.

This could not be happening to her, not again. No.

She shook her head frantically. This wasn't happening. No. No. No. _No!_

Oliver's voice drifted out and she covered her ears with her hands, not wanting to listen anymore but try as she might not to, she did. "Felicity is a genius, Diggle and her father is wrapped around her fingers. He would never raise arms to hurt her, and having her with me would be my leverage. He has to trust me first, though, and for that I need to bring in Lance. So you see, Digg, going slow with Felicity is me shooting two targets with one arrow- she gives me the advantage against her father, she gives me her technical help and I know whatever Lance tells her."

"How?"

"I bugged her phone. Physically. So I hear whoever she talks to and whatever about, if she has it on her. And since she's paranoid about her tech, she always does."

A memory came to her from four weeks ago. The day he fell on her. Her phone had crashed to pieces and she had been so busy gaping at him that she hadn't even realized how he'd inserted a chip in her phone. He had orchestrated the entire thing! Stupid, little fool!

She pounded her head back against the wall, covering her mouth to silence her sobs. What an _idiot_  she was! So, so stupid! 

The men inside didn't even know of the woman breaking on the floor outside, privy to their conversation.

Diggle spoke softly, "Don't you think that's a little too harsh, man? You didn't have to drag her into this."

Oliver's grin, that she wanted to punch off his face, was so clear in his voice. "You're getting soft in you old age, Digg. She's already in the middle. I'm just swaying her in my favor."

"And you conscious condones using her like this?"

Cue hard voice. "I don't have a conscience, remember? But I don't have to fake it, if that's what you're asking." 

"And after you're done with her? What then?"

"We'll go our separate ways. Amicably, I'm sure."

Diggle sighed. "She's just a girl, man. She has feelings." 

Oliver literally announced, "She's a virgin, Digg. She's going to fall in love with the first man that'll seduce her. It'll go away sooner than you think."

"And your feelings?"

"I don't have any."

Well, that was certainly articulate enough. She repeated the conversation in her head over and over again, sitting there, tears streaking down across her face, till her body and mind went numb. Everything after that started sounding distant, surreal. 

Use. Leverage. Advantage. 

Use. Leverage. Advantage.

Use. Leverage. Advantage.

She was just leverage against her father. She was just an unknowing informant of her best friend. He was just using her for his own means. He was using her own desire against her. She was leverage. That was all she was.

Her numb mind circled around this thought like a mantra, over and over again. She hated her body now. Hated the desire that left her so vulnerable, that made her ignore her rational mind, that made her a puppet for him to manipulate. He had touched this body, the thought of how advantageous she was for him arousing to him. How could she have let him do that? To her family, her friend? How could she become the weakest link, so so prone to being exploited and foolish enough not to know it? How could she have been so blinded by lust to _trust_ him? 

The door suddenly opened and she looked up with her breaking heart all over her face, to see Digg look down at her in surprise, followed by understanding and pity. He started to take a step forward but Felicity panicked and he stopped. With a slow look back in the room, he left her alone, shaking his head and muttering. She still sat on her butt, paralyzed, unable to come to terms with what had almost happened. She clenched her eyes shut, cursing herself. She had been ready to sleep with him. She had thought she knew enough about him, but she didn't know him at all.

He was a stranger.

No, he was the enemy.

It was that thought which gave her the strength to stand on her legs and wipe away her tears. Felicity Smoak maybe a naive virgin, but she was not a girl to be trifled with. Cooper had witnessed that to a small extent but Oliver Queen would learn his lesson. 

Taking in a deep breath and steeling herself against her own desire, she entered the room. Oliver looked up at her in surprise before frowning at the completely blank expression on her face and the obvious tears in her eyes.

"солнешко..."

Before he could complete that term of endearment that was completely false, Felicity's hand was up of its own volition and etching a tight slap across his face, the sound of which was too loud in the sudden silence of the room, the imprint of her hand on his cheek. His face went from shock to anger in a heartbeat.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he growled, taking a step forward.

Felicity stood her ground, the anger inside her leashed but burning very much alive, her chin high, as she snarled, calmly. "You have exactly 3 hours to vacate this premises if you don't want to die. Because after that time, I'm going to tell my father and Anatoly what you've been planning and you may be able to fight two men but I doubt you'd last against twelve."

His eyes widened as realization dawned upon him. "Felicity..."

"Save it," she put up her hand. "You bastard, you might get away with using anyone else but you chose the wrong girl to mess with. I may have been blinded by lust but now you are just a leech to me. So leave, and don't come back."

His eyes narrowed at her stance. "You forget that I'm not a nobody, sweetheart. I have power, too. And as _cute_ as your threat is, nobody will believe it."

Her ice in her veins made her snarl again. "But, I'm daddy's little girl, Anatoly's little princess. I have them, how did you so eloquently put it, "wrapped around my fingers" or have you forgotten?"

His jaw clenched. "You weren't meant to hear that, Felicity."

"Obviously. You are quite the actor," she clapped slowly, the hate rising inside her.

"Not all of it was acting and you know it," he stated.

"No, I don't actually. And now I don't even care." The tears came again but her mouth remained strong. "I trusted you and you used me. I told you I wasn't going to be one of those women."

She wiped her eyes, and hardened her heart. "So, you listen to me, and listen carefully to my _cute_ words. You leave here now and you leave alive and nobody but me will know what you planned to do. You can stay in the Bratva and be the greedy asshole you are." Taking a threatening step forward, so close she could smell him, she threatened, her voice low, "But you come near me or my family or my friend again, you will wish you'd never met me. I will _destroy_ you and your family with a few keystrokes and there won't be a place on earth where you could live. I will put you back in the ground so deep without batting an eyelash that you won't even have the space to crawl. So, stay away from me and my family. You come after us. I'm coming after you."

He stared into her eyes deep, and her heart ached for what could have been but what never was. Her lips trembled but she held his gaze, letting him see her strength, that she was not someone he should have underestimated.

"This is not over," he said, slowly, leaving a warning of his own.

"You bet it is. You have 2 hours, 51 minutes left so I suggest you make up and excuse and get the hell out of here."

The tears were torrential but she turned and walked away from him, her heart breaking in so many pieces she couldn't even count and that was the moment she realized her stupid heart had fallen in love with him, a man she didn't even know and in that moment, her whole life seemed like an irony.

She was done. They were through. It was over. 

She was wrong yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> солнешко - Little Sunshine
> 
> So, what did you think? I'm sorry for doing that to you but good stuff coming soon :)
> 
> Also, if check out my soulmate fic Free Fall here (if you haven't) : http://archiveofourown.org/works/3397049/chapters/7434578
> 
> Say hi to me on  
> Tumblr : supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com  
> Twitter @dorky06


	5. Kindling Embers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!  
> I'm floored by the absolutely amazing response to the last chapter. Thank you so very much! You all are big sweethearts! :D  
> Here's the next chapter for you all and PLEASE NOTE that this picks up back in the present day immediately after Chapter 1 and FLASHBACKS ARE OVER.  
> Things are getting interesting. :)
> 
> Lovely Lumenka is the Russian goddess who gave me all things Russian. I love her. And I want to feed her chocolates.  
> And Crazypersongoingmad also helped. Thank you. :) 
> 
> And remember, kudos and comments, guys. :)  
> Happy reading!!!

**Three Years, Two Months and Fifteen Days Later** (Yes, She Was Counting This Time)

 

He was in the house. And she had run away.

The sunlight was getting warmer on her chilled skin in the garden. This spot. Her secret spot. The place she had only shared with him. The place where she met Oliver for secret rendezvouses. Memories of that one week three years ago were washing over her. A week that had shown her the stranger she had fell in love with and the stranger who had cracked open her heart. A week that changed her, made her stronger, made her slower to trust any man. But never him. Never again. She had almost saved herself and her family from a catastrophe at his hands, she would not let that happen again. 

Inhaling deeply and squaring her shoulders, she got up and walked back to the house, promising no weakness to be visible, not again. 

She saw John Diggle standing in front of her father's study now, probably to stop any more eavesdroppers. He saw her, and gave her a polite nod which she returned just as politely. She had no ill feelings towards him, since she remembered him speaking up for her. Neither was she surprised that a man like him had stayed on with that greedy bastard for as long as he had. He was loyal and it was a trait she respected.

Almost past the doors now, she stopped when she heard Anatoly's voice call out to her. "Come here for a moment, принцесса."

Felicity closed her eyes and called for strength before pasting a smile on her face and went to him, linking her arm with his. "Anything for you, my favorite uncle."

"I'm your only uncle," Anatoly grinned with pleasure. They had had this same conversation a million times over the years and Felicity still saw him delight whenever she called him her favorite. He was such a sweetheart.

Her genuine smile soon fled her face, replaced with a cordial one as they entered the study and closed the door behind them. The room was occupied by her father, who was still seated on his chair, and Oliver Queen, who stood by the window, hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall, his casual stance belying the shrewdness of his gaze as he studied her. Keeping her face neutral, she took a seat on a cushioned chair in the middle of the room, disentangling her arm from Anatoly, as he stood by her father.

"Felicity," her father spoke from the desk, "you remember Oliver Queen?"

"Barely," she spoke loudly, her eyes challenging his scrutinizing gaze. He just raised an eyebrow.

"He was at the house three years ago. Remember us talking about the American Captain? He is the one." 

He hardly was the one by any stretch of imagination but she made a non-committal sound. His eyes narrowed slightly, but nothing else changed in his demeanor. 

Anatoly slowly came forward, his face apprehensive and her heart clenched. Uh-oh. This was bad, very bad. She didn't know whatever this was, but it was  _not_  good news.

"принцесса," he began. "There is something important we have to talk about."

"Okay," she said, voice fraught with trepidation. That line was a dead give-away. And since Oliver was very much present in the room, whatever it was had something to do with him, she was certain of that.

Anatoly resumed, looking at Oliver with slightly hateful eyes, then back at her, his regret evident. "Felicity, there is something your father and I need to ask you to do. For us. And the Bratva."

She glanced at her father, who was sitting stoically in his chair, looking outside the window. Felicity felt chilled suddenly despite the sunlight in the room. "What?"

Her uncle took a deep breath and got on his knees before her, taking one of her hands in both of his. "I'm so sorry, Моя милая принцесса..."

"Just tell me," Felicity urged.

Anatoly closed his eyes. "We need you to enter a matrimonial alliance."

Everything was suddenly quiet in the room. Her stunned gaze traveled the study. Her father still looked out the window, Anatoly still bowed before her and Oliver still leaning, gauging her reaction. She replayed the last ten seconds and her brain finally registered what it had been told.

" _What?!_ "

Her voice was loud, incredulous in the heavy silence. She was just 23, for goodness' sake! She couldn't get married like this. It was preposterous. Before she could work herself up over something that might be nothing, she took a calm breath and relaxed. "Why?"

Anatoly looked slightly ashamed. She had never seen him like this. "To protect us. Our place in the brotherhood."

Okay. She was officially confused. How the heck was their position threatened? And how did her getting married solve it? Unless...

Her gaze flew to Oliver's, comprehension dawning upon her. She got to her feet, her anger pulsating inside her body. His blue, blue eyes just took in her response without any other movement from the body she had admired so much earlier.

"Absolutely not!" Felicity said firmly. She was  _not_  marrying him. Not while there was a breath left in her body. 

Anatoly sighed, like he had been expecting this reaction. Of course he had. He knew her too well. Turning to Oliver, he addressed him, his voice hardening. "Do you mind giving us a few moments, Mr. Queen?"

He must have done something drastic to become 'Mr. Queen' from 'Oliver'. Interesting.

Oliver unfolded his tall frame with athletic grace that she could not help but admire. The grace. Not him. Without a word, or any expression to betray anything on his face, he strode out of the room, closing the door behind him. The quietness in the study became too much for her.

"Will someone care to explain what the heck is going on?" she demanded, her hands on her hips.

"Mind your tone, Felicity," her father's stern voice came from the chair as he turned to her for the first time.

But she was not done. Not by long shot. "I'll mind my tone when it's not my entire life being gambled on the line," she said, her voice matching her father's.

Viktor Orlov huffed out a breath, muttering, "He'll certainly have his hands full."

Anatoly cleared his throat and the older man suddenly slumped in his chair, looking more defeated than she had ever seen him look. She walked slowly towards him, putting a hand on his arm. "Tell me what is going on, Daddy."

He squeezed her hand once before getting up and pacing about the room. "Seven years ago, I heard rumors of this young boy in the brotherhood who had killed a man with his bare hands more quickly than even our most experienced members. His instincts were said to be unparalleled, his ability to use his weapons lethal to his enemies. I had heard about him so I kept my eyes on him."

Felicity listened with attentiveness as her father just paced and Anatoly made himself a drink. "The tales of his growth inside the brotherhood were phenomenal. But I was more impressed by his moral code of honor than anything else. He killed only when absolutely necessary, never in attack but only in defense. And yet, he inspired more fear in our enemies than even I did after these many years." 

Her father turned to look her in the eyes. "That boy was Oliver Queen."

Felicity's breath hitched in her throat, but she waited patiently for her father to continue, interested in the back-story she never had. 

"Three years ago, I invited him to the house. I wanted to meet the impressive boy, meet the man who had made me look like a child in our enemy's eyes without even trying." His head shook in his own self-loathing. "I met him and I realized his reputation was well-deserved. His focus, his precision- I was very impressed. We had just started working together smoothly when he just up and left without any reason and I thought that was his way of refusing my partnership. And I am ashamed to admit, but I envied him. And as a consequence of his rejection of my guidance, I did some things, made mistakes I am not proud to admit about. A lot of mistakes."

Felicity could not believe this. Oliver had left because of her, because she had threatened him and her father had blamed himself for that? She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So, she just sat and listened. Her father hesitated, looking at Anatoly for support. Anatoly gave him a small nod and her father inhaled.

"Those mistakes I made, they are  _bad_ , Felicity. And I did not think anyone knew about them except Anatoly and I. I thought we had buried it. But I was wrong. Oliver Queen knows. He had been keeping a record of everything I have ever done. And he contacted me a few days ago with enough evidence to evict me and everyone that I brought into the brotherhood out. And, God forbid, if that happens, I have enough enemies who will ensure that we all die."

Felicity swallowed, shaken at seeing her father so unnerved. She looked at Anatoly, who nodded and joined in. "We have tried everything these few days. Looked for every possible way out. But the man has the upper hand and he knows it."

"Where does the marriage come in?" Felicity asked, not sure if she wanted the answer.

Her father looked at her curiously, trying to decipher something from her face. "That is what confuses me, моя дочь. We offered him money, power, position. Everything. And he refused. When we asked him what he wanted, he said you. Just you."

Her heart stopped for a beat, before picking up with a faster pace, a conversation from long ago echoing in her head. 

 

_"I do get what I want. And starting now, I want you."_

 

Holy expletives. She had never thought he would actually hold her to that promise. She had not thought he would honor any word he ever made and rightly so. This one instance, she seemed wrong. 

Felicity's surprise slowly faded as she gazed at Anatoly, who was now sitting opposite her. "I know that you and he did not interact much last time he was here and you have never met otherwise. So, why does he want you? And if he wanted you for his wife, he should have just asked for your hand. We had been impressed enough to consider it ourselves. But why do this?"

She wished she could tell them the truth. But she had given him her word that she would keep it to herself if he left and he had. And now, considering his own reputation and that he had evidence against her father, it would do no good. It was too late.

Letting them stay baffled, she asked, "If I do consider this, how long before I can leave him?"

The men exchanged a look that boded bad, well worse, news for her. "What?" she demanded again.

"He, well," Anatoly began, uncomfortable, "he made it clear that if you were to marry, there would be no divorce or annulment of the marriage on any grounds."

Surprise flickered across her face again. And then she frowned. This did not go with the theory in her head. She had thought that he would marry her for revenge and shame and humiliate her into an ugly divorce, destroying her reputation before everyone she knew. But what did staying married to her achieve? This did not make any sense.

She removed her glasses and rubbed her fingers over the corners of her forehead, a headache, the first of many to come if her future was as bleak as she thought it was going to be, growing. "So, let me get this straight."

Turning to her father, she spoke, "You did some really bad things and Oliver has proof of it. And he's blackmailing you and the only way to stop it is if I marry him for life. Right?"

"That was an accurate summary of the situation, yes," he replied tiredly, rubbing his own forehead.

"How bad?"

He looked down, ashamed again. She controlled her breathing, anger overwhelming her. 

"And if that proof was to get out, everyone we care about would die?"

"Most likely."

She put her glasses back and got up, going to stand beside the window, gazing out at the green trees on the ground that was her home, to the men who patrolled day and night to protect her and her family, who would take a bullet for her without blinking once. Her eyes closed. Oliver Queen. The man who had ignited her lust like no one ever before or since him. The man who had taken and then broken her heart. The man who had returned. The man who was going to be her husband because her father had done really bad things. Her nails dug into her palms. He might be influencing her decision with coercion, but this marriage was going to be on  _her_  terms. She was not anybody's fool. Not anymore.

She turned to look her father straight in the eyes, taking a step forward. "Tell Oliver Queen I will marry him."

Her father got up to hug her, a relieved smile on his face but Felicity raised a hand and stopped him in his tracks. "I will marry him but you understand this, Daddy. Your ego could not take his rejection and I am paying the price for that with my life, my entire future. So, the next time you think about 'making some mistakes', remember this. Remember that it was your own daughter that you put in the cross-hairs."

Her father kept silent, looking like she struck him and she sighed. "I will always love you, Daddy. And I will forgive you, eventually. But I will not absolve you of this guilt. That is all on you."

With that, she walked out of the room, past Diggle, moving towards the veranda, the need for fresh air shaking her. Jogging towards the railing, she gripped it, her knuckles turning white, leaning forward. A few moments of respite turned into a session of thoughts. The irony of the entire situation was making her slightly hysterical. The man she had threatened into leaving to protect her family was the very same man she had agreed to marry to save her family. She was angry. At the men in her life, at the injustice of it all, at Oliver I-get-what-I-want Queen.

And now that she had agreed to become his wife, what was she going to do? Or rather, not going to do? She had to think about it. Draw clear lines in her head so she doesn't mess it up again. One thing she knew she was  _not_  going to do was trust him. Nope, thanks very much. Been there, done that and it sucked.

She heard footsteps approaching behind her, the sounds of which she knew like the back of her hand even after all this time. Straightening her spine, she looked sideways at him as he leaned on his elbows beside her. Staying quiet, she waited him out, not wanting to give away anything.

"It's not like you to stay this silent," Oliver observed softly, looking ahead at the tree-line. His voice had gotten deeper over the time, its huskiness even more dangerous than it had been. Her heart picked up slightly but she reminded herself that was exactly how he had used her. Control. 

"Don't pretend like you know me anymore," she said in a bored voice. "I have a new policy of not being enthusiastic about speaking to slimy reptiles." Her eyes stayed on his scruffier, handsome face. Bloody good-looking bastard.

His lips twitched up and she was annoyed that he wasn't offended. She opened her mouth again, knowing how childish it was but not being able to help herself. "If it didn't go through your thick skull, I just called you a reptile. Slimy one. The worst kind."

He turned his face towards her, his blue eyes still not offended, lips still up. "I thought the poisonous ones were the worst."

"Oh, you are that, too," she faced him completely now, not knowing why she was getting worked up. "You are the worst sort of hybrid actually. Slimy and poisonous and scaly and traitorous."

He hummed, turning towards her as well, pushing his hands back inside his pockets, tilting his head to the side in that familiar way of his. Her eyes narrowed. They stood facing each other, just looking, for long moments. The emotions rising inside her were bubbling furiously now. 

She opened her mouth, and let it all pour out in three little words. " _I hate you._ "  

And finally, he got offended. Or at least she thought he did. Whatever it was, she liked this reaction. His eyes that had been too bouncy one second ago, hardened and his lips pursed in a straight line. She gave herself a victory fist pump, filing this away for future. She was going to need it.

A sardonic smile crossed his lips, as he pulled something out of his jacket pocket. Reality crushed her victory high back into the ground.

It was a ring. A beautiful platinum ring with two vines wrapped around each other, going round and round till they merged with a line of small diamonds in the center. Her gaze swung to his from the ring, blood rushing in her veins, eyes wide and disbelieving. He slowly took a hold of her left hand, his hand rougher than she remembered, tanner, the tips of her fingers tingling like they had just woken up from a slumber. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion. He took the ring, aiming it towards her ring finger, and reached it. It slowly slid onto the finger, contrasting and sparkling against her skin in an unreal way, as it made its new home there. It was a perfect fit.

She watched him as he brought the hand to his mouth, his eyes locked on hers, and touched his soft lips to the tips of her tingly fingers, to his, no her, ring, then to the back of her hand. Heat shot up from the contact, her entire hand on fire as he kept his lips pressed there, his scruff scraping against it. 

"You might hate me, солнешко, but from this moment on, you are mine," he whispered into her skin, embedding the words deep into her hand. Goosebumps burst out and she pulled it back before she did something stupid, like fall for that line.

Her hands balled, nails digging into her palm. Taking a step forward, she tilted her chin back in defiance. "Don't think for one second that I've forgotten anything."

His solemn gaze bore into hers. "I know I haven't."

"And I'm not going to make this easy for you, you snake" she stated, angry at his cool composure.

"I'm counting on it, вспыльчивая моя," he said in that calm challenging voice. 

Felicity wanted to stomp her feet but she reined in the urge. Barely. Grinding her teeth, she swerved right and headed towards the door, ready to get into her room and drown in ice-cream to figure things out, when she heard him speak. "Felicity?"

She halted but did not turn, her body stiff. He spoke, his voice coming from exactly where she had left him. "I promised you this was not over. Keep in mind, that I keep my promises."

She wanted to spin on her spot and argue, point out all the promises he had made her that he had broken. She wanted to engage in that argument and wipe the floor with his very firm ass. But she did not, because she knew that was what he had expected. And wanted. And she had to throw him off too. So, she started walking again but could not go without a clever retort, damn her. 

Angry at herself and him, she put her left hand in the air, tossing him her middle finger, the ring glinting and winking beside it and passed the door.

His quiet chuckle followed her all the way inside. He was right about one thing.

This was far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> принцесса - Princess  
> Моя милая принцесса - My Little Princess  
> моя дочь - My Daughter  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
> вспыльчивая моя- My Wildcat (Credits to Crazypersongoingmad)
> 
>  
> 
> So, what did you think? Leave me your thoughts!
> 
> Also, if check out my soulmate fic Free Fall here (if you haven't) : http://archiveofourown.org/works/3397049/chapters/7434578
> 
> Say hi to me on  
> Tumblr : supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com  
> Twitter @dorky06


	6. Inflamed Senses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!  
> So, I was going to update this two days ago but then the preview hit and all the wires in my brains crossed and I had an aneurysm that I still can't get over. Boy, were those 7 seconds hot, or what? Phew *fanning self*
> 
> I am absolutely stunned by the _absolutely amazing_ response to the last chapter. Chocolates to you all for awesomeness.  
>  So, this chapter is the wedding. They are getting married. And the story progresses. Though I have to warn you, a lot of things from a typical wedding don't happen in this one. :)
> 
> My buttercup Lumenka is my personal Russian goddess. Google helps too at times.
> 
> Kudos and comments, guys. Leave me line about what you thought. :)
> 
> Happy reading!!!

"... in sickness and in health, for life?"

Oh no, she didn't. She would rather scrape the pieces off his glorious body and wipe the floor with it. 

She looked around at the gathered crowd, pursing her lips. It had been a week since she had been told she had to marry a piece of garbage, hot garbage, if garbage was hot, whatever. She had to marry Oliver Queen and it had been a week since she had shown him the finger, which had given her pleasure like nothing else. It had been a whirlwind of a week. It seemed apparently, that apart from her father, Anatoly, her douche bag fiance and herself, no one knew of the actual reason for the sudden marriage. Not counting Diggle and Roy. What everyone else thought was that it was a torrid case of head-over-heels between the two (which would have made her blush three years ago, but now, nuh-uh) and what shocked her was that people actually thought this was a good match. She felt like laughing hysterically whenever she heard that one. 

Her mother had been in seventh heaven, or maybe one beyond that, when she had found out. She had gone all gaga over Oliver's personality, in a very cliched case of 'like daughter, like mother' and had hurried all the arrangements for what should have been the wedding of a lifetime. It so wasn't. Her father had not spoken to her since the revelations in his office. She frankly didn't care right now. He screwed up and if he felt bad for her calling him on it, he had to deal with that on his own while she was busy saving him.

Anatoly had apologized profusely, every time that he had seen her and she had not been able to hold her grudge against him for longer than one day. The man genuinely had had no idea how bad the situation had gotten and he would never have put his own ego before her future. She knew that deep in her bones. So, on the second day of him apologizing, with almost tears in his eyes, she had launched herself at him in a hug and whispered a "You are still my favorite uncle" in his ears. He had sworn her to secrecy to never tell anyone that he had cried. She had too, just a little.

But then she had gone to her room and started thinking, completely coolly. Her husband-to-be was clever, she had known. Crazy smart. But if she was going to be his wife, she was going to be smarter. She didn't entirely know what she was going to do exactly, but if she managed to stay alert and not go weak in the knees around him, she would be just fine and dandy and kicking his firm butt. It had helped that she had not seen him for the entire week but then, she had been busy with her mother, shopping for the dress and what not. What she wouldn't give to just curl up in her bed in her Powerpuff Girls pajamas with WiFi right now.

Speaking of now, she was standing in the gardens of her own house, which had been decorated with white and blue canopies and light pink flowers. The wind was calm, unlike her insides, the sun was slowly setting into a beautiful dusk, streaking the sky a beautiful purple and pink, and the seating area was occupied with members of the Bratva from all over the world, all guests of her father. Her mother did not have any women friends outside the Bratva wives. They actually had a club going- "Bratva Wives Club"- and yes, it had been her mother's eccentric idea. She shook her head in fondness. 

The only good thing that came from this charade was that Roy would be accompanying her to her marital home, as her bodyguard. She was grateful because there was no one she could trust more to be around her, even when she was at her worst. He knew about the marriage and its conditions because Felicity had told him. She didn't want him in the dark if he was coming. Right now, he was standing stoically with all the other bodyguards, including Diggle, who as always, was looking at her with understanding in his warm eyes. She looked away, her hand clenching tightly, towards her only guest in the crowd. Sara Lance.

She sat in a maroon dress that Felicity knew she hated, smiling at her with that adorable dimple on her chin. Her friendship with Sara was stronger than ever, better after the fiasco three years ago. Felicity had confronted her with the information she had gathered from Oliver's conversation (which still made her stomach drop), and had told Sara that she was a Bratva daughter. Sara had admitted that she had done it for the thrill, and she had been wanting to get away but she owed them money. Felicity had helped her, and she had got out, and made a life for herself as a physical trainer, the best if her reputation was anything to go by, for men. Felicity had started her business too and they had stayed friends ever since.

A throat clearing whipped her head back to the minister, who was looking at her quizzically. "Do you, Ms. Smoak?"

Her eyes flashed to Oliver's. Despite her hate, she had to admit he _rocked_ the tux like nothing she had ever seen before, and she had been surrounded by fit men her entire life. It fit him so well, like it was poured on him. His tall, wide stance seemed relaxed on the outside. Hers was too. Only on the outside. Her internal organs were having a riot. With the banners and the loud movements. Ew.

She shook her thoughts and looked into his clear blue eyes, that just looked back at her, without any expression in them. Except a little warmth. The bloody asshole was happy. Well, she was about to rain on his parade.

"Oh, I do." She smiled sweetly, too sweetly, blinking up at him like she actually worshiped the ground he walked upon. She heard an "aww" come from somewhere in the crowd, making her want to gag. His eyes narrowed infinitesimally at her smile, suspicion replacing the warmth. Good. He should be wary of her.

They weren't doing the whole Maid of Honor-Best Man thing at all. So it was the Minister himself, who gave Oliver and Felicity the rings and proceeded to announce for them to put it on the other's finger. Felicity took the plain platinum band and slid it on his finger, her teeth grinding at the falseness of the beautiful ceremony. The audience clapped. Oliver's lips tilted slightly and he took her left hand in his big one, looking at her, and tried to slide the ring home. It didn't go forward.

Felicity smirked a little as he looked down at her hand with a frown. She had wrapped two bandages around her ring and little finger. There was no way the ring was going there. His eyes moved back to her, the anger and cool warring for dominance. 

The crowd started murmuring, so she spoke in a clear voice, with an innocent shrug. "I cut it this morning by accident." Not by accident at all. In fact, there was no cut at all. She wasn't into self-harm and stuff like that. And he knew that. Bingo. 

Oliver inhaled deeply and placed the ring on her right ring finger, the one which also had the previous ring. She had to admit, his taste in rings, if he had actually chosen them, which she highly doubted, was remarkable. If she had thought her engagement ring beautiful, it was no comparison to her wedding ring. It was platinum as well, with the same vine design as the other ring. Only in this one, the vines themselves were studded with small, tiny diamonds that merged all around each other, banding around her finger. This one did not have any stone at the center but it took her breath away. Had this been a wedding she had wanted, this would have been the perfect setting, the perfect ring, the perfect everything. Except the husband. Who was still holding her hand like he had a right. Well, technically he did.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The crowd cheered. She gulped. 

"You may kiss the bride."

She held her breath as Oliver looked at her, his eyes heating slightly, and leaned forward. His face came closer and closer to her own, so close that she could feel his breath on her face, his woodsy, familiar scent wrapping around her. His mouth was just an inch from hers, eyes on hers, when she muttered from the corner of her mouth, so only he could hear her. 

"I don't care where we are but I swear, if you dare to kiss me, I'll make your mouth bleed, I'll bite you so hard." 

He froze, his face an inch from hers, hovering, as his eyes narrowed again, measuring her threat. It seemed to be suspended as she watched him decide what to do. 

He leaned forward again, changing direction at the last second and brushing the corner of her mouth with his lips, just on the periphery. She hated herself for the way her heart skipped a beat and then stuttered in her chest, thumping with vengeance against her betraying body.

Oliver pulled back and looked at her softly, saying. "You look beautiful."

She frowned. Why wasn't he being mad? He was not supposed to look at her with those tender, traitor eyes and compliment her. He was supposed to grit his teeth and fake a smile. She shook her thoughts as the crowd descended upon them, everyone taking their turns, congratulating them on making such a beautiful couple, before leaving to enjoy themselves. There was that word again. 

Oliver was beautiful, she admitted that. And she knew she looked very pretty today, in her wedding gown. It was a beautiful gown, with white embroidery on the puffed skirt, her breasts enveloped in the fine silk that hugged her curves. But the best part was how sophisticated it was. The chest and sleeves were covered in transparent white lace, that locked around her wrists and collar bone, giving the illusion of exposed skin. Well, and the skin was exposed at her back. A lot of skin. There was no back to the dress at all, just a string across her shoulder blades that tied the ends together. 

Oliver's palm scorched where it touched the naked skin on her lower back. He wasn't rubbing it, not moving it. Just holding it still and the heat seemed to be radiating out of that spot and spreading through her body. She moved a step away, his hand falling away, and went to Anatoly without sparing him a glance. He came with her.

Anantoly hugged her with a grin and held her by her arms, looking her up and down. "You look so beautiful, Felicity. So grown up. I can't believe the little baby who let me steal ice cream if I let her have it has become so прекрасный."

Felicity smiled wistfully. "You can always steal ice cream from the kitchen. No one will know."

Anatoly rubbed her arms, looking at her seriously. "You know you only need to make a call and I will leave everything to come for you."

She nodded, her eyes tearing up at the man who had always come for her. He spoke again. "You will always be Моя милая принцесса."

Then, he turned to Oliver, who had been observing the scene quietly. Anatoly's voice changed, his accent thickening, to how she had heard him speak to men in Russian. "I don't care what you have on any of us, Queen. You hurt her and you will die."

Oliver just nodded and placed his hand back on Felicity's back. Anatoly left with a nod and Oliver pressed her back, escorting her towards the dance floor. Oh no no no no. She was _not_ dancing with him.

Looking around subtly, she caught Sara's eye who was talking to her mother and beckoned her to come. Sara frowned but excused herself, coming to Felicity and throwing her arms around her exuberantly. "I can't believe you got married!"

"That makes the two of us," Felicity muttered, pasting a smile on her face.

"Sara, I'd like you to meet Oliver Queen," she introduced.

Oliver stepped beside her with a smile, extending his hand. "Her husband."

Sara shook his hand with a smile. "That was kind of obvious from the ceremony. I'm Sara Lance. Her best friend."

Oliver's lips twitched. "I know."

At Sara's frown, he looked at Felicity and spoke, "She has talked a lot about you."

Her hands clenched. Way to go, Mr. Queen. Bring up her foolish trust in him and she would be on her guard. This was her best friend he had planned to use her against. She needed to remember that.

Sara tilted her head, her eyes shrewd. "That's funny. She has never spoken about you."

Oliver's hand flexed against her back but his smile stayed in place. "We were keeping it private."

"I'd say," Sara mumbled in disbelief, trying to think of something to delay them. "So?"

Oliver looked at Felicity again, his eyes knowing what she was trying to do. "So, it was lovely to meet you finally, Sara, but I'd like to have a dance with my wife now."

Sara smiled and left with another hug and a hearty 'congratulations'. Felicity's heart sank. She did not want to dance with him.

Apparently, her prayers were answered in the form of her mother, who intervened. Felicity saw Oliver's jaw clench now, his annoyance at being detained obvious to her.

"Honey!" her mom came, her delighted voice sharp. Her eyes strayed to Oliver and she grinned. "You have scored a handsome one, darling. Tonight will sure be fun."

Felicity face-palmed, right there in her wedding dress. Oliver smiled genuinely, turning to look at Felicity's flushing face. "Good to know you think so, Mrs. Orlov."

"Oh, call me Donna, dear," her mother grinned. "You are my handsome son-in-law after all."

"Mom?" Felicity croaked, mortified. Her mother turned to her, confused then her eyes lighted up. "Oh yes, I forgot. You father wants to see the two of you in the study. You have to sign some papers I think."

The papers. She inhaled and turned towards the house, holding up her skirts, without looking at Oliver. She heard him excuse himself and follow after her.

The inside of the house was completely empty, since everyone was outside, having the time of their lives on a day she was supposed to be having hers. Her heels clacked furiously on the floor, as she made her way, very aware of the silent man beside her, just strolling along. Damn his long legs. 

They turned into the corridor to the study, the corridor where they had first met, and Oliver put a hand on her shoulder, just halting her in her tracks.

"Felicity?" his husky voice rasped, still affecting her nerves despite everything.

She looked at him, keeping her face neutral. "What?"

The back of his hand caressed her cheek, his thumb softly travelling over her lips, his eyes intense upon her. Her breath hitched. No. He wasn't supposed to be soft with her.

She twisted her face away but he took her chin and turned it back to him. "You are a fever in my blood, солнешко."

She grit her teeth and dug her nails in her palm, raising her eyebrows. "Too bad I don't believe you."

His eyes closed at her words, and he shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. Taking a step back, he gestured for her to proceed towards the study.

She started walking, suspicious of his soft attitude. He knew his other ways were getting old so he was just tricking her into a false sense of security by making himself seem vulnerable. Yup. that's exactly what it was. And she was not going to fall for it.

Straightening her spine, she entered the study without knocking and saw her father, Anatoly, Diggle and Roy in the room. Bodyguards too. Great. Roy gave her a reassuring nod. 

Oliver shut the door behind them and leaned against it, hands in his pockets like the last time he was here. She shook her head at the handsome devil of a husband she had.

"Here are the papers, with all the stipulations," her father's voice spoke plainly, hiding whatever emotion he was feeling. "You both need to sign them."

Felicity picked up the papers and leafed through them, reading through.

Her father spoke again. "It says that once the marriage is completed, his evidence will never come forth and would need to be destroyed. Also, the marriage cannot be terminated or annulled by any means other than the death of either spouse."

Felicity looked up at her father, shrugging nonchalantly. "So, I'm just going to have to kill him, then?"

Diggle coughed a laugh from behind her and she turned to look at him. His eyes were amused. Her gaze moved to her new husband.

Oliver's lips twitched, a slight dimple appearing on his cheek as the mole beside his lip drew her focus. Her father sighed. "Felicity..."

"Oh, don't worry," she turned and put the papers back on the desk and picked up a pen. "No evidence would be found. I'm not a genius for nothing, after all. And no one would be implicated."

She signed away her future with her name at the bottom of the page, her insides hyperventilating as she started babbling, her calm cracking with the finality of this moment. "I have learned a few tricks. And I can act all innocent. He won't even know when it'll hit him. Or..."

A hand on her shoulder halted her words. She looked up at Oliver, who was smiling slightly. She frowned. Was the man insane? Here she was, a newly wed, writing a book about 101 ways to kill your husband in her brain, and he was smiling. 

She took a deep breath while he quickly signed his name beside hers and looked up at Diggle, giving him a nod. Diggle left the room with Roy. When did those two bond? Huh.

Her father got up from his chair and came towards Oliver, shaking his hand, like a deal had been done. It infuriated her, that they made her feel like an effing commodity.

"Take care of her," her father said softly.

What was it with everyone being soft today? She was aware that she was losing it, slowly. She was hyperventilating. 

"'Her' is right here, and more than capable of taking care of herself," Felicity interrupted. "I don't need any more men trying to take care of me, thank you very much."

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her, his eyes boring into hers, like he was trying to read her but replied to her father. "I will."

Her father nodded and turned back to the table. "Your bags have already been transferred to your new house. You can leave now, if you wish. I'll inform the guests."

What? Before she could say anything, Oliver opened the door and Felicity took the hint, walking outside. They left the room and turned towards the front gates, where a town car was waiting on stand by. Were they actually leaving already? But what about dinner? And the cake? And the guests?

The emotions that had been slipping from her since she had picked up the pen became an avalanche now. Her breath became short and her vision blurred. She was panicking, bad. Till now, it had seemed surreal, abstract, but now it didn't. It was too real now. She felt frantic as she swung her gaze to Oliver, her husband and her panic skyrocketed. 

She stopped in her tracks, supporting herself with one hand against the wall, her mind swirling completely out of her control. This was too final. She could not deal with this. No. No. No. She started muttering the word.

Suddenly, two hands engulf her arms, shaking her slightly. She looked up, blinking to clear her vision, and met a pair of blue, concerned eyes.

"Felicity? Felicity? Hey." Oliver's voice reached her through the blood rushing in her ears. "It's okay. You're okay. Just breathe in, okay? Keep your eyes on me. Breathe, солнешко."

His hands rubbed up and down her arms soothingly, as she focused on him and fought for her breath, slowly getting herself under control. After a few seconds of anchoring herself to him, she blinked up at him in surprise, not understanding why he had helped her, the genuine concern in his eyes putting her off-kilter. How could she have had such an episode in front of him? She was not supposed to be weak, not supposed to show her vulnerability for him to exploit! Damn it! 

"Thank you, but I am fine now," she spoke politely, taking another deep breath, hating herself, and took a step back from him.

That wry smile she had seen earlier graced his beautiful face again as he gazed at her for a long moment, then shook his head. "Let's go."

Nodding, she walked towards the car, the night air chilling around her as Diggle opened the door, and slid in first. Oliver held her skirt up and helped her to her surprise before sliding in himself. 

In the enclosed space, his scent assaulted her as her heart slowed down from its hammering. Diggle and Roy got in as well and she looked sideways at Oliver's big profile.

Oliver leaned back in the seat, meeting her eyes and took her hand in his, his thumb rubbing against his rings, as he addressed Diggle. 

"Take us home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> прекрасный- Beautiful  
> Моя милая принцесса - My Little Princess  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine 
> 
> Check out my SOULMATE fic here : http://archiveofourown.org/works/3397049/chapters/7434578
> 
> Say Hi to me on  
> Tumblr : _supersillyandsorky06.tumblr.com_  
>  Twitter : _@dorky06_


	7. Heat Crescendo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!
> 
> So, WOW. I'm so amazed by the overwhelming response to this story. This fandom is so, so warm! Thank you so very much! Cheers to all!
> 
> Here is the next chapter for you all. The plot thickens. :)
> 
> Russian is all my buttercup, Lumenka. ♡♡♡
> 
> Kudos and comments, guys. Just drop me a line to tell me what you thought. :)  
> Enjoy!  
> Happy reading!!!

Felicity looked down from the VIP section railing, at the club, jam packed with people her age, doing more than just grinding on the dance floor. Writhing bodies to loud music. She sipped her drink, feeling like a stranger at a party in her honor, letting her mind wander.

 

After her panic attack, once Felicity had calmed down enough to realize that a big, rough hand had been holding hers, a thumb moving over it in soothing motions, she had snatched it back, feeling the brand of his touch on her tingling palm and sat back in silence the entire ride to her new house. And what a house it was. While Felicity had been no stranger to wealth and mansions, Oliver's house was a thing of beauty. The old stone texture, grey cut rocks, gave the huge mansion the appeal that probably a fort in Scotland would have had, looming tall and proud amidst the vast land.

The drive from the main gates, manned by an army of security, had been a very long one till the house, the path surrounded by acres of beautiful lawns on both sides. Roy and Diggle, it had seemed, had struck a quiet friendship during the ride. She had been happy for Roy, to have some friend to talk to other than her. Once the Bentley had stopped, the two had gotten out, and Roy had helped her to, aiding with her dress. She had taken in the grand house that felt more like a fortress.

The huge oak doors had opened to reveal a young, dark-haired, gorgeous girl, who had grinned at her husband and hugged the life out of Felicity before she could stop it. Thea Queen. The only woman in Oliver Queen's life. His adorable little sister. Felicity's mouth had curved up at her enthusiasm of her own accord.

"I am so very glad to _finally_ meet you! Ollie has told me so much about you!" Thea had said, leading Felicity by hand inside. Felicity had quirked her brows at that. My, my. What had the siblings gossiped about? He had probably told her a romantic tale to prevent her from seeing his true colors. Or maybe to preserve her innocence. Felicity had not known, and she hadn't cared, as Thea had bounced inside with her, gushing about her dress and introducing her to the staff, all of whom had welcomed her with bright smiles. A matronly woman standing on the edge of the room had stepped forward then and grasped Felicity's hands, moved to tears. She had been Raisa, an old Russian woman who had helped Oliver take care of Thea, and her kind smile had immediately warmed her to Felicity.

But tired as she had been, after greeting everyone she was sure she would forget the names of the next day, Thea had led Felicity upstairs, all the while talking on an on about how great it was to have a sister and how swimmingly they would be getting along and the great party she was throwing them at her club when Oliver had followed, kissing Thea on the cheek and dismissing her. With a lascivious innuendo that only little siblings could get away with, and which made Felicity's cheeks burn, Thea had strutted off with a grin.

Oliver had then lead her down the huge corridors lined with artwork, telling her to make herself at home completely, do whatever she wished with the house, change anything she liked, while she had been mentally preparing herself for fighting him tooth and nail about not even sharing the same bed. But he had thrown her for a curve. He had stopped outside a door, and told her in a quiet voice that her stuff had already been kept inside, and she need not worry about her privacy here. He had informed her that his room was connected to hers and in case if she needed anything at all, she could come seek him anytime. With a small nod, he had left her standing at the door, gobsmacked in her white gown, completely baffled as to what had just happened. 

She had walked in her new bedroom, as though in a trance, and halted. The room had been made almost an exact replica of the her old bedroom. She had taken in the comfortable double bed and the cream and pink decor, completely like her previous room at her old house, and gasped.  Her brain had been dead by that point, so she had changed into her pajamas and worn her glasses (her stuff, as Oliver had told her, had already been settled in) and sank down in the fluffy, cloudy mattress without even turning the sheets, sleep taking her almost instantly.

A ray of light in her room had woken her. She had gotten up, surprised, to find herself under the covers and her spectacles removed and folded neatly on the bedside table. She'd wondered who had done that for a while, coming to the conclusion that it must have been Roy. She had spent her entire day in her room, arranging it to her liking and generally playing games on her tab, till the evening came with an excited Thea, asking her to get ready.

She had, and they had come to the club Thea managed, Verdant, even though she was too young to drink, where the party in her honor had already begun and her spouse was missing. Not that she was complaining, but if she was keeping his sister company for appearances' sake, he better come soon too.

 

So here she was, in a flirty little back and gold dress that hugged her curves. It's thick straps went down to her shoulder blades, tying in there, leaving her backless. Her hair was twisted up in a haphazard style, exposing the entire line of her spine, from her neck to her waist. She was no too comfortable with showing as much skin as she was, but her mother had insisted that she had looked gorgeous in the dress. And she did feel good. Her four-inch gold heels only added to it.

Her new husband (and she kept repeating that like she had a dozen old ones) had come into the club a few minutes ago, entering the place like he owned it. Maybe he did. Diggle, the ever loyal mate, followed quietly behind him. Her eyes scanned Oliver as he walked with masculine grace across the room, drawing the eyes of women from almost all age group, all drooling over him. And why wouldn't they? Oliver in a black suit was a sight to behold, and especially without the tie and the open collar, his tanned skin on display, she would have drooled too. But right now, she would gladly exchange her marital status with any of the women here for their freedom. 

He stopped as Thea approached him, his entire manner relaxing. Whatever kind of jerk he was, he did love his sister. It was obvious even to her, and even from afar. Thea herself looked beautiful in a tiny blue shimmer dress that was constantly drawing the eye of one Roy Harper. Felicity grinned into her glass, looking at the covert looks the two seemed to be exchanging the entire night.

She looked at him behind her, and smirked. "You know, she does look amazing. And in the 24 hours I've spent with her, I think it's kind of permanent."

Roy flustered, only in a way he could. "Let me do my job in peace, Felicity."

Felicity shouted over the loud music. "And what is that?"

Roy smirked now. "Watching your ass."

Felicity laughed, wiggling her eyebrows. "Oh, I didn't know you had a thing for my ass."

While Roy shook his head in fond exasperation, used to her behavior around him, a man's voice came from behind her.

"Oh, I can't imagine a man who wouldn't have a thing for your ass."

Felicity turned at the unfamiliar voice and looked at the man. Ray Palmer. Oh, joy.

About a year ago, Ray Palmer had absurdly gotten this crazy, absurd idea in his head that she was into him. A notion which Felicity had corrected firmly and repeatedly. Then she had just gone to avoid him, and had succeeded for almost a year. But he just didn't quit with the too intense eyes, did he?

She pasted a polite smile on her face, sighing inside. "Ray. What a pleasure." Not.

He stepped too close into her personal space, and she saw Roy go on alert, but she shook her head. Nothing she couldn't handle herself. He took a hold of her hand and kissed the back of it. Her skin crawled but she smiled.

"You look as beautiful as always, Felicity," he said loudly, over the music. And with the eyes. Oh lord of creepies, the eyes.

Felicity smiled cordially again. "Thank you, Ray. You always give the best of compliments."

On whose invitation was he here? But then, he was associated with the Bratva so maybe he had a free pass or something. She extracted her hand from his and resisted the urge to wipe it on her dress. 

"Are you enjoying the party?" she asked in the same tone.

"With the company like I have right now, who wouldn't?" His eyes roamed her body. She shuddered. "Would you like to dance?"

"Umm..." she lingered.

"Please, just one dance, Felicity" Ray uttered. Her name on his lips felt weird. Bad weird. "Please."

Felicity sighed and nodded, taking pity. "Just one dance."

Ray grinned wide, a little too wide, and put his hand on her bare back. Her nerves protested. Oh, this was a bad idea. Very bad idea.

Her thoughts were confirmed as soon as his hand started moving up and down her spine. 

She was about to tell him off when suddenly, another hand replaced Ray's, another hand with rough callouses she knew, a hand that her body recognized, a hand that sent shivers of completely another kind down her spine. 

"Palmer." His voice was rough, just like his hand, as she turned to look at him. The relaxed manner from earlier was gone like it never existed. In its place was a tightness that made her stomach clench slightly. 

"Queen." Ray's voice became tight too. "I was just taking this beautiful lady for a dance."

Oliver's mouth tightened, his eyes drilling Ray's. "This beautiful lady happens to be _my_ wife, and the only man she'll be doing any kind of dance with is me."

Felicity's anger spiked at the statement. What was she, a bone? He sure was behaving like a dog.

Completely oblivious to her rising temperature, or maybe ignoring it, she really wouldn't put it past his thick head, he took a menacing step towards Ray, his voice dropping octaves that would have made her quake too if she had been in that spot. "Next time, read your invitation properly. This party is for _our_ marriage. So, next time I see you speaking to her, there better be a mile between you." 

Ray's eyes narrowed. "I'll take what I want. You can't mess with me. I'm important to your little brotherhood."

Oliver's hand left her back completely as he took another step, his hand fisting. Oh boy. This was very, very dangerous Oliver. A part of her wanted to warn Ray and ask him to just high-tail it. But she watched, slightly enthralled at this side of him she'd never seen. She could see now why he had been made an exception in the brotherhood. She could see how he could make people tremble with one look. She still hated him, but this danger awed her. Like watching a panther come at you, knowing he would go for the jugular but still marveling at his beauty, at the danger he radiated.

Oliver just stood, staring Ray down, and the spoke quietly. "You really want me to show you _exactly_ how important you are?"

Ray swallowed. She didn't blame him. 

"Is everything alright here?" Thea's sudden voice broke the tension. 

Felicity saw Oliver's put up a virtual mask, his voice forcefully jovial. "Yes, Speedy. Mr. Palmer was just leaving."

Ray's eyes drifted to her once more and Oliver bared his teeth. What was he going to do next, growl? This was ridiculous!

Ray turned and left, muttering something under his breath, leaving behind a silent group of people.

Oliver took a deep breath and turned to her, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity she could not understand.

"You. Me. Talk. Now." he said quietly, that air of menace not completely having gone.

Felicity's spine stiffened at his tone and she raised her eyebrows, ignoring Thea and Roy, who stood together, figuring they couldn't hear too much anyways. 

"I think I'll stay right here," she muttered sweetly, knowing it would rile him.

Oliver stepped into her personal space now (what was it with men and personal spaces?) and ground out. "You come with me or God help me, I'll throw you over my shoulder right here and take you."

What! Enraged, Felicity stepped in too, slowly enunciating through her teeth. " _You. Wouldn't. Dare."_

 _"Try me_ ," he countered, stepping in too. 

They were so close to each other now that she could feel his controlled breaths on her face, smell his musky, woodsy scent all around her. His brilliant blue eyes bored into hers, awaiting her response, the tension between them so, so thick that she could have taken a bite out of it. Felicity's senses twitched, feeling eyes upon her, and she realized the attention they were gathering. Causing a scene would not help anything. Neither would kicking him in the balls. Which she was highly tempted to do. But with her luck, his balls would be made of stone and she would just break her knee. Balls of stone. Balls of stone. Stoned balls. 

The sudden urge to giggle allowed her to cool down and nod, but not relent.

Oliver, unaware of the completely bizarre, druggy thoughts she was harboring about his balls, turned to his sister. "Speedy, we're going downstairs. Make our excuses."

Thea, completely clueless to the angry undercurrent between the newly-weds, smirked. "For make-up sex? In the basement? Ew, Ollie."

"Speedy!"

Thea raised her hands. "Okay, okay. Jeez, calm down."

Oliver put a hand on Felicity's back, pressing her into moving forward. She did, ignoring Thea's wink and Roy's concerned look, giving him a reassuring nod. She could handle him just fine. They reached a metal door of some kind and Oliver pushed buttons on the keypad, motioning for her to enter. She swallowed, her eyes meeting his, and straightened her spine again.

A citrus smell hit her nostrils as she went descended the steps, taking in the basement. Or the cave. Maybe a den. Lion's den. but she was not mouse. It looked very cave-y, with the stone, rock cut interior. Except it had a million lamps all around the area, lighting the small seating arrangement on one side of the room and an official looking desk with a computer on the other side. The center was dominated by a weird looking ladder that she had never seen before. It was metallic, attached to the ceiling, and had a removable rod in between like a bar. Huh.

Before she had even processed the entire thing, Oliver's hand spun her around and pressed her into a pillar, the sudden cool temperature against her back making her arch away and press into him instinctively. Sucky instincts she had.

Oliver's blue eyes were not icy, but so fired up and so heated that she gasped slightly, as his hands pressed her arms, holding her against the pillar, his body looming over hers.

"What the fuck was Palmer doing?"

The question was a douse of cold water on her inflamed body. She pursed her mouth and leaned forward. "What does it matter?"

He blinked like she had surprised him. She blinked surprised at his reaction.

But then he plowed right back into hit, the fire in his eyes hotter than before.

"What does it matter?" he repeated through grit teeth. " _What does it matter?_ I'll tell you the _fuck why!_ " 

His hands suddenly left her arms and ran over her naked back, his callouses catching on her skin, igniting her traitorous body even further. Her breath hitched and chest heaved, heart racing. She bit back a moan before it could escape and give him the satisfaction.

Oliver leaned in, so close she could make out each lash above his beautiful eyes, his voice dangerously soft, his eyes locked on hers.

" _Nobody_ gets to touch you like this, солнышко." His fingers traced her spine.

" _Nobody_ gets to feel the silk of your skin." His fingers dipped in the curve.

" _Nobody_ gets to see this flush on your skin, the fire in you." His fingers caressed the dimples in her back.  "Nobody, except _me_."

Felicity looked at him for a second, her arousal slowly going down before she burst out laughing on his face, her hand coming to cover her mouth as small bursts escaped her, her eyes crinkling at the corners. He just narrowed his eyes, now a little amused, as he waited for her laughter to fade. 

She panted, still giggling. "What medieval chronicle did you escape from? 'The Caveman Times'?"

He just tilted his head, considering her with a dry chuckle, rubbing his hand over his neck. 

Felicity patted his arm once and moved away from him, speaking firmly, the humor gone. "Yeah, not going to happen, buddy. I decide who feels my skin and my flush and what not, and that is _not_ you. Just because you blackmailed me into marriage does not mean we are married in any sense of the word whatsoever. Nope. Nada."

Oliver tilted his head the other way. "That is where you are wrong, baby," his soft voice said. "We are more married than you want to believe."

She folded her arms across her chest, cocking her hip as he leaned against the pillar he had held her against, mirroring her posture. The muted light played with his features, making his profile more beautiful than it should be, the suit jacket teasing her deliciously.

She shook her head. "Really? I disagree."

"Disagree all you want, Felicity," his calm voice spoke, his anger completely replaced by a sort of amusement that was ruffling her no end. "You and I both know that fire in your body only burns with my touch. Palmer disgusted you."

Accurate, but Felicity smirked on purpose at the statement, wanting to rile him. "Are you serious? I was enjoying myself. In fact, I may have slipped out with him."

Oliver shook his head, a small smile hovering over his mouth. "No you wouldn't have. You wouldn't touch any other man."

The absolute certainty in his voice shocked her. Recovering quickly, she mocked, incensed at how easily he was dropping these little I-Know-Felicity-Facts bombs on her. "Really? And you are so sure you know me because?"

He pushed away from the column, his lithe muscular body coming lazily towards her, his sure eyes tangled with hers. "Because you don't have an unfaithful bone in your body, солнышко, and despite the fact that you don't believe in this marriage, you wouldn't cheat."

Felicity was flabbergasted. He was right, very right. He was right but she didn't have to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "You don't know me at all," she argued, but it lacked vigor. She could feel it.

Oliver huffed, arms folded and accepted her challenge. "Tell me, what would you have done if I had asked you to sleep with me last night?"

"Like you ask everything else so nicely?" She was laying it thick on the sarcasm.

"Touche," he commented. "But tell me?"

Felicity cocked her head with fake sweetness. "I would probably have put your soldier-making factory out of service, hopefully for life. Or maybe worked on a one-way ticket for your trip to heaven. Hell, actually. I don't know. My mom is Jewish. So I'm half-Jewish. Which means I only half believe in Heaven and Hell. So let's just stick with afterlife. But you don't even deserve that. You deserve a Black Hole. The big, universe stuff."

Oliver bit his lower lip, which drew her eyes to the area, obviously biting a smile, which was infuriating. She didn't understand this man at all. She didn't understand herself with him. How could her body and her mind be so at war with each other? How could her internal organs forget their vows of cohesion around him? 

Felicity, with her anger at herself, lashed out, walking up to him and poking his hard, hard chest with her finger, which she was pretty sure was hurting her more than it hurt him, bloody statue of stone that he was, and it enraged her more. 

"You understand this once and for all," she spit out, gritting her teeth, "I am going to do whatever I want. If I want to go somewhere, I will. If I want to flirt with your men, I will. If I want to bang your men, I will. If I want to have a bloody open marriage, I will. And you will not stop me. I am not yours."

Finally, finally, his calm cracked. His hand shot out, engulfing hers as he pulled her into his body, his other hand digging into her hair and tilting her head back.

"Now you listen to me, you firecracker," his hard voice rasped. "One, my men will never even look at you like that. You know why? Because they want all their limbs intact and they already have an example." Her brow furrowed in confusion but he went on, undeterred. "As for the open marriage, I will not be touching any other woman and you sure as hell will not be 'banging' anyone except me. You are a beautiful, intelligent woman, Felicity. But you are also mine. Only mine. _And I don't share_."

His fingers brushed away errant hairs away from her face as she looked at him, perusing him slowly, something clicking inside her brain. "Why did you marry me?"

His face closed up so fast she couldn't believe it. The neutral mask she only knew too well was back in place. He straightened and took a step back, confirming Felicity's suspicion. He was hiding something. Felicity took a step after him, her mind running amok with questions.

"There is more to it than just keeping a promise I knew didn't matter to you, isn't there?"

"It mattered to me," he spoke quietly, his back to her.

Felicity shook her head, her volume rising with each question. "What do you have against my father? And why marry me? Why not challenge his position like you wanted to all those years ago? You were willing enough to use me then? But now you have leverage too? Is that what this is? Are you using me this time too? For some reason i don't understand? Is that..."  

Oliver spun around before she could blink, a fever in his eyes she had never seen before, making the blue glint dangerously, and yelled louder than she had. "What I am doing is _protecting you_ , god damn it!"

Felicity blinked, taken aback, frowning in confusion. "What?"

Oliver controlled his breaths, his heaving chest and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling loudly. "Nothing."

"What do you mean you are _protecting_ me?" she asked, keeping her own rage in check. He didn't say anything, his face turned towards the ladder and not her.

At his silence, she huffed loudly. "You know that I will find out whatever it is you have against my family, don't you?"

Oliver looked at her then, stoic. "No, you won't. Because there is nothing digital to be found. Only I have the evidence and it's all physical. And I never want you to find it."

Felicity glowered. "Obviously, that's your leverage, right."

Oliver looked away again, taking a deep breath, before gazing back at her. "You may not believe me, Felicity, but I don't ever want you to find it because I don't want to destroy your relationship with your father."

She snorted, tapping her foot. "Please. You don't give a rat's ass about me or my family. And I won't repeat the mistake of believing you."

Oliver closed his eyes, then shook his head and started towards the stairs quietly, not replying.

Felicity barged on, angry at his stubborn, soft silence. "You should know that I _hate_ you, Oliver. You may be my husband but I will hate you till there is a breath left in my body."

He froze in tracks, his back muscles tensing, his hands clenching and unclenching, before he just turned his head and looked her right in the eyes, speaking so so softly she had to strain her self to catch it.

"And you should know that you are mine to protect and cherish, Felicity." His voice wrapped around her name like it always did. "And I will try to change your mind about me till there is a breath left in mine."

With that, he swiftly climbed the stairs, leaving her rooted to the spot, the earnestness in his voice ringing in her ears, long after he had gone. Oliver Queen had completely gobsmacked her yet again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> солнышко- Little Sunshine
> 
> So, what did you think?
> 
> Also check out my SOULMATE fic, Free Fall, here : http://archiveofourown.org/works/3397049/chapters/7434578
> 
> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : _supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com_  
>  TWITTER: _@dorky06_


	8. Molten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Wow. This story has gotten such an emotional response that I'm overwhelmed. Thank you all for that! :)
> 
> Here's the next chapter. Okay this is longer than the others, almost 5k words, so bear with me. I hope you like how it goes.
> 
> Kudos and comments, guys. Drop me a line to let me know what you thought! Enjoy!
> 
> Happy reading!!!

The sun shone warmly on the land, bathing the lawns in a clean green.

It had been five days since her wedding. Five days of her being a wife in the name only. Five days of Felicity wracking her brain for whatever reason she could find for this sham of a marriage. And till now, she had found none. It frustrated her. Whatever evidence he had was sure locked up like a government secret. Maybe it was. She had absolutely no clue.

She hated him. But she had to admit he had surprised her. Since that party five days ago, she had hardly seen him at the house. He had been busy, working most of the time away from the mansion. Maybe he also had a mistress on the side, despite telling her he wouldn't cheat. Like she believed him. But that she didn't want to think about. She didn't want to think about why in hell should it bother her. But he had surprised her. He slept in his own room, worked out of the house during the day like she said, but always, always checked up on her when he came back, asking if she had been comfortable during the day, if there was anything she needed. She'd always retort with some sarcastic comment or the other and watch his face fall slightly, so lightly that she would miss it if she blinked, before he would shake his head and bid her a good night. She had the entire routine memorized now. And it had been five day. Jolly.

During the days, she had set up her own office in the room Raisa told her Oliver had turned into a study for her. She had gushed on about how "Mister Oliver" had seen to the renovations himself, wanting everything in place. And she had to admit she had been very impressed. The computers in the office were the latest models, all the equipment fresh and waiting for her to delve into it. She had actually squealed when she had seen it all, feeling immensely happy at all the new tech. That evening, she had thanked him, only barely curbing her enthusiasm, but told him that it didn't change anything. Oliver had smiled slightly and nodded, going to his own room.

His own room was connected to hers by a door that she had locked. But that did not lock out the sounds that came from his room deep into the night. His groans and grunts of pain were an obvious indication of his restless sleep, his nightmares. And for the first time, Felicity had understood that whatever Oliver may have done to her, and however much she despised him, she didn't want him in that pain. It hurt her for some reason she did not want to look into. He was tortured, and given how long he had been in the brotherhood, how early he had come on, what all traumatizing things he had to have witnessed and perpetrated, her heart had ached a little for him. He may manipulate her into a sense of lull during the day, but at night, he was truly troubled.

These were the thoughts that had made Felicity stay even more alert around him, her guard up the entire time. Her vulnerability could kill her this time. And she would not let him find a chink in her armor at any cost.

She sat lounging on the balcony under an umbrella, a tall glass of lemonade in her hand as she just looked out into the gardens. It was a beautiful house, she had to admit. It took her a few days to get acquainted, but once she did, she fell in love with it. Over the past days, she had become friendly with the staff, especially Raisa, who kept telling her small anecdotes about her own life in Russia, about the Queens, how she had served the family since the birth of Oliver. She particularly like talking about him, about how good a man he was, how great a heart he had. Felicity only just barely helped herself from snorting at that one. But she humored her. With the help of the older woman, she had arranged her office, then proceeded to set up the servers and the firewalls, even finishing a software for a client in two days. Her business, at least, worked well from here.

But today was a Sunday, and she had a rule of doing absolutely nothing but be a potato on Sundays. She liked potatoes. And that reminded her she was hungry. 

Roy was somewhere in the house with Diggle. He had his own quarters with the other guys who lived on the property, and all in all, he seemed to be enjoying himself. He kept her company, clenched his jaw at Oliver, and made heart eyes at Thea. She smiled to herself at the obvious tension between the two. His friendship with Diggle, though, made her happy. Diggle, as she had realized from what few words she had exchanged with him since shifting to the mansion, was a good man. A gem. How the hell he was loyal to a jerk like Oliver was a mystery to her. But she liked Diggle. And she got the feeling he liked her as well, although he had never said so. She had a feeling he was not a man of many words. Which was alright. She'd dealt with men like this her entire life.

What she really noticed though, that she might not have earlier, was the way Oliver's men behaved around her. The house was always swarming with Bratva people and their men. But none of them, not _one_ , even looked at her in any way except with respect. And that surprised her because that was exactly what Oliver had said they would do. Let alone flirting, the men gave out the old brother vibe in abundance. There was not a single man worth her attention, who would return her attention. Except her husband. And she just sighed.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Felicity swiveled her neck around to see Thea standing at the doorway, leaning against it with a smile.

Felicity returned it, waving her to come forward. Thea was an unexpected surprise too. She was a whirlwind, a combination of a ten year old and a thirty year old, wrapped in one beautiful package. Over the last five days, they had talked generally, although not much given her hours at the club and Felicity doing her own consulting, but Felicity had grown a soft spot for her even in such a short time, interacting with her as much as she had. For a single child who had grown up surrounded with men, the sisterly company was a breath of fresh air that she welcomed.

Thea sat on the lounger beside hers, but shifting it so that it faced her, leaning back leisurely. "It's really good to have you here, Felicity. I always wanted a sister and I'm so glad you're not a bitch."

Felicity grinned at her lazy drawl, sipping her drink. "Wait till you see me on my period."

Thea chuckled, the sound light and happy, her face scrunching up adorably. "Periods. What a fun way of knowing how _not_ pregnant you are. I remember the first time I got mine. Ollie freaked out so bad!"

Felicity's insides sobered at his name, but she kept the smile on her face. She wanted to know more about the man she hated so much and yet still remained a mystery to her. "Yeah?"

Thea nodded, taking a sip from a bottle of water she had. "I was 14. He did freak out but he explained everything to me before handing me over to Raisa. Then he got me comfort food." She shook her head, remembering apparently.

"That's nice," Felicity said slowly, fishing for information, letting Thea talk. Her curiosity was piqued.

Thea smiled at Felicity, but her eyes turned sad, the sun glinting off her wavy dark hair. She spoke again. "Yeah. I know everyone thinks he is this hard-ass dangerous guy, and I suppose he is to everyone else, but he's always been so much more to me. You know about our parents right?"

Felicity nodded, vaguely remembering that the two children had been orphaned young.

With the same sad expression, Thea nodded again. "Ollie changed after he saw our parents die. He witnessed the murder. He never tells me anything about it, though. I was 6 then and I don't remember much, but he had to take care of me after that. He always takes care of me."

Foreign emotions threatened to overpower her as she heard more and more. Clearing her head, just wanting to know more, she asked, "Why did he join the Bratva so young?"

Thea's face hardened, her voice clearly angry as she spit out. "Because the people who murdered our parents threatened me."

Felicity's mouth opened but Thea continued, her eyes distant, lost in memories too painful for such a young one. "He said he didn't ever want to feel that helpless again. He didn't want to be a victim anymore. So, he learned how to protect us from people like that. And now he's a big guy, and I know he's done a lot of bad things, but I can't hate him for it. He already hates himself too much."

Felicity took all that in, feeling for the small boy Oliver had been. How frightened he must have been that night? How alone? Had he cried or had he shut it in to take care of his sister? Had he started hating himself since then? Or had that come later? Was that why he prized his control so much?

Felicity was suddenly aware of Thea's penetrating gaze on her, her head tilted to the side like her brother's, as she commented softly. "You know, I remember the first time Ollie told me about you."

Felicity blinked in surprise. "When did he do that?"

"Almost three years ago, I guess," Thea shook her head, a huge smile splitting her face wide all of a sudden. "He had this little smile on his face that I had never seen when he talked about you. And I remember wanting to meet you and give you a hug. Because Ollie had had more women than I felt comfortable knowing, but he had never smiled like he did when he told me about how you fell on each other and your babbling. He'd said you made him feel normal."

Felicity sat stunned into silence, her glass long forgotten into her hand, her heart racing. 

Completely oblivious to the effect of her innocent information, Thea leaned forward, taking one of her hands in hers. "It broke his heart when you broke up with him. I don't think I'd ever seen him so angry or so sad. But I'm glad the two of you met again and decided to give it a try. He's so much calmer with you around." Thea's earnest eyes touched something deep in her. "Thank you for that, Felicity. I know you guys still have some issues to work out that Ollie just won't tell me about but I really hope you do. And you can talk to me about anything. Well, apart from the sex life."

A twinkle came into her eyes, as she smirked. "Plus, I do want you two to give me nieces and nephews, you know. And if the chemistry between you two is any indication, making babies will so not be a problem."

Felicity flushed at the teasing comment, slapping Thea's hand. "Be nice."

Thea laughed and got up, winking. "I'm hardly ever nice. But I enjoyed talking to you. Next time, I'll let you talk too."

With a small kiss on her cheek, that surprised Felicity to no end, Thea sauntered back inside the house, leaving Felicity reeling from all the information.

Her heart ached for the pain Oliver had had to see, for how quickly he had to shoulder his responsibilities. Her heart melted at his obvious love and devotion for his sister, and the fact that she would have been giddy knowing he had spoken about her to the girl. And then her heart hardened remembering the way he had ripped it from her chest and smothered it with his own ends and means, how he had used her budding love as a sword through her chest. No. Oliver may have had to face the horrors of the world and he may hate himself for what he did and he may love his sister more than a brother could, but he was also the man who had made her weep for countless nights, who had made her mistrust all strange men around her, who had shredded her once hopeful, romantic heart. He was also the man who had blackmailed her family and forced her into this farce of a marriage. 

She may understand better where he came from, but she'd have to disappoint Thea. They won't be working anything out, and there would definitely no nieces or nephews. At least not in this birth. And not from her.

 

"Mrs. Queen?"

For the second time, she turned around as someone interrupted her musings, and saw Diggle come forward, still not used to her new name. She was still officially a Smoak, and Oliver hadn't challenged that much to her disbelief, but everyone around the house called her Mrs. Queen. It made her feel old. Like a mother. Which she was not. And not going to be. Ever. If she was married to this douche for life.

Shaking her head, she smiled at the man whose warm smile always made her feel nice. "Yup, Digg?"

"Mr. Queen is requesting your presence in a meeting in his study," he said. 

Felicity's eyebrows reached her hairline, all her previous thoughts pushed back. "Really? A meeting? And since when does Oliver request anything?"

Diggle coughed a laugh. "He did ask me to say, 'Tell her I said please.'"

With a huff, Felicity stood, waking her feet up, grinning. "He did now, did he? But why am I needed?" 

Diggle shrugged. "It's something technical." After a second of pause, he whispered secretively, "I frankly think it's all going over his head."

A laugh escaped her, and Diggle seemed pleased with himself. Still chortling, Felicity followed him into the house, down the stairs and the foyer. Raisa had told her that Oliver and Thea had personally decorated the house, each piece their own selection, making it as much of a home for themselves as they could. The artwork was all Thea's taste, and it was brilliant taste. Instead of old, boring paintings that Felicity could never understand, there were pieces buy new artists, from landscapes to random portraits to pictures of graffiti. They walked down a corridor to the right of the foyer, at the end of which were huge wooden doors. Diggle opened the one for her, gesturing for her to proceed. She smiled at his chivalry and entered.

She had never been inside Oliver's study. It was beautiful. It was big. The wall behind a desk on the right, with a computer sitting atop it, was covered with shelves of books, drawing her interest. The room, done in overtones of brown and red and cream, was tasteful. There was a seating arrangement in the middle of the room, with plush brown sofas, beyond which were huge French windows that opened into a balcony, the sheer curtains dancing in the wind. She took it all in before her eyes went to the men sitting around the middle and the one woman. She was dressed in a black suit, tall and lean, looking like a Russian model. And Felicity didn't like her on sight.

There were four men there, all big and mean-looking, three of them giving her the heebie-jeebies with their intrusive stares, and one man staring intently into a tablet. Suddenly, due to the stares, she felt conscious in her flowy, modest pink and white sundress, that showed her legs but covered everything else, and her trademark ponytail. Her hand nervously went to her glasses as she saw Oliver turn from where he was leaning against the desk and come forward towards her, looking slightly relieved.

"солнышко", he whispered from the corner of his mouth. "Thank goodness you are here."

Felicity's nervousness vanished at his own. Her mouth curved up as she proceeded into the room, with Oliver's hand on her back, as they sat on a sofa, side by side, facing the others.

"How can I help, gentlemen and lady?" she inquired politely, ignoring the way the three men were eyeing her skin. The other one was still looking into his tablet. So, he was the brain then. The woman eyed her up and down cattily, her dislike for Felicity too obvious in her gaze, her arrogance evident. Okay, then.

"Mr. Queen, how can a woman assist in such matters?" The one man with long beard had the gall to ask, while eyeing her lecherously.

She felt Oliver stiffen beside her, about to speak but she put a hand on his leg, asking him to let her handle this silently. She was going to enjoy this. As though understanding exactly what she meant, he leaned back, with one arm propped on the sofa behind her, relaxing into the cushions. He was going to enjoy this too, it seemed. She smiled.

"How about you ask that after the one woman who came with you is out of the room?" she asked sweetly.

The woman in question crossed her legs, her air of arrogance rubbing Felicity the wrong way. "I'm Isabel Rochev."

Definitely Russian. Felicity raised her eyebrows like that was supposed to mean something, and saw the woman grit her teeth. Good.

The man who had the tablet looked up at her for the first time, and spoke. "We were contacted by our Moscow headquarters about some big discrepancies in the accounts. In Moscow. And it is not possible because only two people know the passwords to the account, and manage them and they are loyal. If the error is true, a lot of damage can be done."

Felicity processed that, her mind switching to the tech mode. "Have you checked the firewalls?" she asked the man, starting with the basics.

"We are not idiots," Isabel Rochev snidely remarked, interrupting her. 

Oliver's hand fisted behind her back. Oh, so he didn't like her either. They agreed on something at least. Yay matrimony.

Felicity leaned back too, her back going against Oliver's arm as he cradled it, and this time _she_ looked the woman up and down. "Do you have a degree in computer science?"

Rochev's eyes narrowed. "No."

Felicity let her inner bitch out with a smirk, "Then I suggest you let _me_ talk." She turned back to the Tablet Man and dismissed the woman completely. "Firewalls are fine?"

He nodded. "And the servers are alright as well." His Russian accent reminded her of Anatoly. 

Felicity nodded, her mind going a mile a minute. She gestured to his tablet. "Do you mind if I take a look at it?"

The man hesitated, his eyes going to Oliver for some sort of confirmation. Oliver nodded immediately, and the man handed her his tablet. 

She let herself get immersed in the codes, only aware of Oliver's eyes on her rapidly moving fingers over her shoulder, but she ignored it and let her brain do the work.

Muttering the codes under her breath, she asked without looking up, "Which software do you use for the accounting work?"

The man answered back with a name that made Felicity's head shoot up, her eyes wide in horror. "That software is older than the dinosaurs! Well, not literally. But that's why we call it dinosaur technology. No wonder it crashed and burned. I'd probably burn the computer myself if I had to use that!"

Oliver cleared his throat. She turned to him, his lips twitched slightly as he looked back at her, and she blushed to the tips of her dyed roots. She had just babbled in front of dangerous mafia men. And a bitch of a woman. And her too-amused husband. Shaking her head at herself, she looked down at the tablet, and after a few minutes, returned it to the man.

"The discrepancies were basically these viruses that self create themselves. It was because of the outdated technology," she explained, her hands moving animatedly. "I've upgraded it to my own software remotely. It should be fine now. Though a lot of people have tried hacking into it, they aren't as good as me, so it didn't work. As long as you update it every month, you should be fine."

The man stared at his tablet in amazement, then at her. His voice was awed as he spoke, "This is remarkable. Thank you!"

Felicity smiled at him, liking his kindness just as the Beard Guy spoke again, his voice cocky. "Well, well, I wonder what else you are good at?"

Oliver suddenly stilled beside her, his hand stiffening behind her back. Uh-oh. His voice came out, low and slow, and very very dangerous, making Felicity's heart stop for a second.

"Mind your tongue, Stefano," Oliver warned. "It's my wife you are talking to." 

The man's, Stefano's, jaw dropped, his face clouding and his gaze swung to her, contrite. "I apologize, Mrs. Queen."

Felicity gave a curt nod, curious as to why the men were so scared of hitting on her, his wife. What exactly had he told them? Was it purely his dangerous reputation or something beyond that?

Isabel Rochev, apparently, did not share that fear because she brazenly went ahead, making Felicity's palm itch with the desire to punch her smug face. "Since when have you cared for a girl so much, Oliver? That too a nerdy, little blonde? We both know she is not your type."

Jealousy hit her hard and fast, and she knew without a doubt that this bitch had been with her husband in the past. Felicity was about to open her mouth and put her back in her place when she felt Oliver touch her shoulder lightly, calming her, asking to let him handle it like she had asked him minutes ago. She quelled the need to rebel and sat back, a small petty part of her, that she wasn't proud of, wanting to see what he did.

Oliver spoke again, his voice smooth and quiet, but so threatening it made her wonder how long it had taken him to perfect the art. "Understand this very clearly, Isabel. Whatever grudge you have against me, I won't let you take out on my wife. Her intelligence alone is probably higher than your entire family's combined and I will not have you insult that. She has worked harder than most for her own success and deserves nothing short of respect. So, heed this as a warning. Because I won't stand you bad-mouthing her and I won't repeat myself again." 

Felicity watched the color drain from Isabel's face slightly, and while a part of her did not agree with letting Oliver defend her on her behalf like this, a part of her enjoyed watching the smugness leave her face. And she was surprised at his words. Since when did he respect her? But, one thing was for sure. Her new husband was damned effective. 

The group got up to leave, and so did they. The men shook hands with Oliver and nodded courteously to her, congratulating her on the marriage, to which she smiled politely. Isabel Rochev left without a word to either of them, leaving them alone in the huge study.

The sunlight was filtering into the room, the bright light making his jaw look scruffier, his eyes look bluer, every expression on Oliver's face crystal clear as she turned to him.

"Thank you, for your help," Oliver said quietly, nodding to her.

She tilted her head and considered him for a moment. "Did Diggle hit you over the head or something?"

Oliver's brow furrowed and she explained. "You just said 'Thank you.' And you sent Diggle with a 'Please'. It's suspicious."

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling, before looking at her, no, _gazing_ at her. And it was not helping her traitorous body any. "You were great right now. I'm constantly amazed by your intelligence. It's a little intimidating, to be honest."

Felicity's jaw dropped. "Okay. Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"

She saw his breath hitch at the word, his eyes darkening. Her heart pounded and she opened her mouth to backtrack when he shook his head. "Don't," he whispered.

The following silence between them was loaded. She swallowed, not understanding him, out of her depth, and it was scaring her. "What are trying to do, Oliver?"

"What do you mean?"

Aggravated, she spread her hands, letting the words flow animatedly. "I don't know what your game is here. Ever since I've come to live at this house, you have been polite, courteous and pretending to care about what I actually do. You ask me about my day every night, you don't try to manhandle me, you keep your space. You give me the most amazing office at home, thank you for that by the way, and just now you go on in front of strangers about respecting me?"

Her voice had turned incredulous by that point. His face had closed up, become the stoic mask she was familiar with, only the tic in his tight jaw telling her that the words were getting to him. But she didn't care. She had waited years to let it out, and she was on a roll, the emotions inside her bursting after being suppressed for too long. "Isabel Rochev may have deserved the warning but she was right about one thing. Since when do you care? Because no matter what you tell people, I know you sure as hell don't care for me, and you sure as hell don't respect me. You need my help in business, cool. But don't pretend behind closed doors, okay? It'll just make living with you harder than it already is."

Oliver's eyes closed and he breathed in, before opening his eyes, and looking straight back at her. The intensity of his emotions staggered her, made her pause. He took a few steps, closing the distance between them, and raised a hand slowly, cupping her cheek in his hand, softly touching her skin, the turmoil in his gaze touching a chord inside her. But she ignored it. Until he opened his mouth.

"I'm sorry, солнышко, for hurting you so much."

Felicity clenched her eyes shut, blocking the words out of her ears. No. No. NO!

He couldn't do this. He couldn't give her that one line and worm his way into her heart. She forced herself to remember how she had felt standing outside that door three years ago, forced herself to remember how her insides had rebelled and her mind had begged for escape, forced herself to remember how he had killed something inside her.

A small, errant tear escaped her closed eyes before she could stop it. His hand moved, catching the tear, unaware of the battle she was waging inside her. And then, for the first time in so, so long, she felt his soft lips on her skin, sipping away her teardrop, kissing her eyes softly, his scruff rubbing against her face, his male scent surrounding her. Another tear escaped and he kissed it too. Her heart clenched. Her mouth trembled, her need for him, her hate for him, her rage for him, all over-powering her, consuming her.

She brought her hands up to his chest and pushed him away, opening her eyes, hardening her heart to his soft, beautiful face, taking a step away from his temptation.

"You did not hurt me, Oliver," she spoke, her voice trembling with her unshed tears, hoarse with the need to weep, but she spoke with iron. "You did not hurt me. You destroyed me. You snatched my faith in men from me, and I was never able to believe any man after that. You made me doubt my own self, made me question if I wasn't good enough for a man. I had told you about what Cooper had done to me, and you did the exact same thing, only a hundred times worse because I trusted you so much more than I even trusted myself."

She wiped her eyes, staring at rigid posture, his quiet eyes filled with a kind of hate she had never seen. Only she didn't think it was directed at her. Thea's words from an hour ago came back to her.

_'He hates himself enough for it.'_

She shook the wave of tenderness that wanted to seep into her blood, and continued, needing to get this out. "I didn't let what you did dictate my life, but that didn't mean I wasn't up at nights, wanting to punch you in the balls. I am your wife on paper, because you have something about my father with you that is awful. You forced me into marrying you, and I can never love another man again. But that is not what I hate you so much for. I hate you because you took away a part of me that I had loved, a part that I could never find again. And for that, Oliver, I'll never forgive you."

Oliver's eyes closed again, like closing out her words, his hands shaking slightly before he clenched them into fists. Well, now he knew how she felt. She turned and walked towards the door, wanting to just leave his presence, when his whispered voice reached her, pleading. "Don't say that, Felicity."

She halted in her tracks, her back to him. This reminded her of that night in the club, when the roles had been reversed. Felicity straightened her spine, and addressed him without turning as tears ran down her face. "You don't deserve my forgiveness, Oliver. And you sure as hell haven't earned it."

With that, she opened the door and walked out, closing the door behind her, a loud, glass crashing noise from inside the room, ringing in her ears for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> солнышко- Little Sunshine
> 
> So, what did you think?
> 
> Also check out my SOULMATE fic, Free Fall, here : http://archiveofourown.org/works/3397049/chapters/7434578
> 
> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com  
> TWITTER: @dorky06


	9. Simmering Underneath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!
> 
> Thank you so so much for the absolutely overwhelming response to this story. I had not really thought it would grow like this when I started writing it, to be honest. But I am so thrilled by all the comments and the kudos and the feedback on other platforms. THANK YOU!
> 
> I apologize that I couldn't update sooner because I had a really nasty cold that just didn't let me stare at the screen at all. So, I decided on this.  
> IMPORTANT : THE PHOENIX WILL BE UPDATED EVERY TUESDAY AND FRIDAY. I had to make a schedule because though I like writing everyday, falling sick kind of puts a damper on it and I don't want you just waiting around without knowing what is happening when. So, EVERY TUESDAY AND FRIDAY.
> 
> Here's the next chapter. Stuff happens. All Russian is from lovely Lumenka ;)
> 
> Drop me your thoughts. I love hearing from the readers! Enjoy! :)
> 
> Happy reading!!!

It was the cool, conditioned air against her skin that was making her shiver slightly. Yup. That was it. Her slight tremors had nothing to do with the fact that she was sitting alone in one of the best restaurants in the city, right inside the area of the SC Mall, all alone, waiting for Anatoly to come and meet her for lunch. Her shivering also had nothing to do with the fact that she had left the mansion all alone, in her old, red Mini Cooper (don't even get her started on the name of the thing that always reminded her of her creepy ex) that she had brought along with her to the mansion. She was kind of attached to the thing, despite the creepy name. That's why she called it Alfred. Like Bruce Wayne's loyal butler, old but reliable. Except the British part. And the wrinkles. Her car was neither. And definitely did not hum in an accent. That made cars very liberal, she supposed.   

Anyways, the point was that it was around an hour after noon, she had told no one where she was going, except Roy, whom she had ditched for the first time in her life, spinning a lie about spa and girl time that he didn't need to know about. The poor sucker of a sweetheart had believed her but remained stubborn as to accompany her to the mall, at least. That's where the ditching had come in. In her defense, she did feel bad about that and she did not want anyone, especially her husband, knowing she was meeting Anatoly. 

She had to push the wheels on figuring out what Oliver had on her father, and the only way she could even know where to look was by having Aantoly at least give her a hint as to what it was. Her arsenal was full of big eyes, batting eyelashes and heart-warming smiles that she was definitely going to use on her uncle. It had only been just ten days of her marriage, and though she had to admit Oliver was being more bearable than she had expected, she still wanted that out. She needed that out. And the only, only way for that was by knowing what leverage Oliver had.

She took a bite of her nachos, looking at the time. Anatoly was slightly late, and she couldn't afford anyone discovering she was missing. For one, Oliver, with his weird protective tendencies that she still doubted were genuine, would be angry. Not that she could not handle him, but with the tension between them since their last confrontation, with both of them just being super polite to each other, the last thing she wanted on her hands was another showdown. Plus she felt bad whenever she saw his hand. He had already had enough pain in his life.

And that day the idiot had broken a big glass vase, one of the pieces of which had embedded itself deep inside his left palm. She had been frightened at the amount of blood he had lost but he had shaken it off, cleaning the wound and wrapping it in bandages while she had just watched, with a sort of numbness coming over her. That was when the politeness had started, for her. She did not want to look too deep into why him being hurt had bothered her so much. She was still not delving into that one. Nope. She wasn't even going to touch it with a ten-foot pole. Not that she had any of those lying around. Well, Roy could always get some for her.

"Моя милая принцесса." 

Jolted out of her mental rambling, Felicity looked at Anatoly coming to the table, getting up to give him a tight hug that he returned in kind, the smile on her face warm and genuine. 

"You are late," she admonished warmly.

He grinned, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. "I had to look pretty for my princess, no?"

Laughing, Felicity shook her head. "You always look handsome, Anatoly."

They sat and ordered food, chit chat about this and that when Anatoly finally took her in. "How is your husband treating you? He keeps you well, no?"

The concern in his accent was thick and Felicity took in a deep breath, seeing her chance and grasping it. "He is a stranger, Anatoly. In fact, I called you here so you could tell me about him. Who is Oliver Queen?"

Anatoly sighed, wiping a hand across his face, suddenly looking his age, the tiredness pronounced in his eyes. "He is not a cruel man, if that's what you are asking. Despite everything he has done recently, he is one of the better men I have seen."

Felicity picked up another nacho and munched on it. The food was served and the waitress left. Picking up her fork, she eyed Anatoly. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," he bit into his bread, and chewed, "that he is not a bad man."

She sipped her wine, swirling it in the glass. "You'll have to be more elaborate than that."

Anatoly chewed for a long time, making her think he wouldn't be answering this way. Just as she was about to open her mouth again, Anatoly started speaking. "About eight years ago, I was visiting family in Moscow when the Captain there told me about this new member who had protected himself against 'The Claw'."

Felicity frowned at the weird name, and Anatoly held up a hand. "Let me finish, and then you can question, okay?"

She nodded slowly. He continued. "'The Claw' was the name of our most brutal combat man. He was called so because he was sharp and lethal and anyone who stood against him better had said goodbye to his family in the morning. We had never heard of anyone going up against him. But then there was I, listening to the captain talk about this man who had defeated that legend with his bare hands. His skill, his potential, everything were unparalleled. So naturally, I expressed my wish to meet that man, wanting to pay my respect to him."

Felicity gripped her hands together, her food forgotten on her plate, engrossed in the story. Anatoly had stopped eating as well, his eyes lost in the time, remembering things she could not fathom. "Eight years ago, in Moscow, was the first time I saw Oliver Queen. And to say I was shocked would be an understatement. He was just a boy, barely any older than you had been, and he had done something that old, experienced fighters could not. He had defeated 'The Claw' but only in defense. I was very very impressed with him. And even though he was a boy, I could see a darkness inside him, a stillness that even I did not have."

His eyes moved to Felicity's, looking right through her. "That day, in five minutes of meeting him, I knew that this boy was a weapon. Lethal was his blood. And I knew he could prove to be very dangerous to the brotherhood if he wished to use it. I kept my eyes on him all that time, waiting for him to do something against us using that stillness that the older members had come to envy. It was a gift for him."

He quietened down then, looking outside the window, to another time. For long seconds, he said nothing, and then opened his mouth again. "This was why I found it so surprising that he did not use it for anything other than protection. He did not kill unless in defense, he did not do the many ugly things we have done by choice. He just rose within the Bratva, and he just carried that power inside him, never letting anybody even glimpse it."

"Then?" Felicity prompted, unable to control herself.

Anatoly sighed again. "Then, nothing, принцесса. Your father was correct in feeling insecure of his place. Oliver Queen was not a man to be trifled with three years ago, he is not even more so now." He suddenly switched to Russian profanities, his eyes lighting up with discovery as he looked at her. "That time, three years ago, he got to know you, did he not? That was why he was insistent that he marry you."

Felicity swallowed, not really wanting to go down that road. But Anatoly went on, lost in his own string of thoughts. "But why not ask then? We would have agreed. Your father and I both liked him. I still like him, despite the hate your father harbors. I understand that resentment, I have some of it too. But it is hard not to respect a man like he is. He is, as I told you, one of the better ones."

She sipped some wine, wetting her dry throat, absorbing all the information and adding yet another piece to the complicated puzzle that was her husband. The sudden ringing of her phone startled her. She looked down at the caller id and gulped. Roy. Shit. She had to get back quickly, but she wasn't even done. Pressing 'Ignore' on the screen, she turned her phone to silent and put it in her bag. Let him think she was primping herself in the dang spa.

Leaning forward, pushing fast forward on the conversation, she took a hold of his old hands in hers, hands that she knew had spilled a lot of blood, but they were still the hands that had held her when she had been frightened as a child, hands that had rubbed her back in tenderness and tickled her to tears, hands that had held her tiny fingers as she had learned to walk. Anatoly had been more of a father to her than her own. She smiled at him, her heart bursting with affection, but her mind needing to know.

"Anatoly? Will you tell me something if I ask you? Honestly?" she asked, the earnestness in her voice even evident to her own ears.

"Anything, принцесса," he replied just as earnestly, holding her hand back.

"That day in the study, when Dad spoke about being envious of Oliver..."

Anatoly frowned. "Yes?"

She gulped, calling for courage. "He said he did things that he was ashamed of, things that Oliver knew about that he used against him. Do you know what they were?"

The anger in Anatoly's eyes made her blink. It was anger not towards herself, or even Oliver, but towards her father, and she had never witnessed that. "No, Felicity, I do not know. Because your father did not think it wise to warn me of any stupid thing he was doing. So many years of friendship, and the first time I heard of any mistake he made was when Oliver came to him with the evidence."

Felicity sat back, defeated and frustrated. "And you never even got a hint as to what it might be?"

Anatoly was shaking his head even before she was done speaking. "Oliver is a man of his word. He only ever discussed it in my absence and only showed the proof to Viktor. Which is why my resentment towards him is not as much as it is towards your father. He made some very bad mistakes. Maybe if he had told me about it, they wouldn't have been made. He gave the ammunition to Oliver to use. You can't completely fault your husband for using it."

Felicity gripped her hair in her hands, her frustration at hitting another dead end annoying her. "You think Dad would tell me if I asked?"

Anatoly raised an eyebrow. "Like he told me after I nagged him for weeks about it?"

"Touche," she muttered. "There has to be something that we know!"

Anatoly looked at her in concern. "Is he treating you badly? Is that why..."

Felicity shook her head and spoke, the honesty in her voice surprising her. "He is not treating me bad at all. In fact I have everything I need, and he does not impose himself on me."

He leaned back in relief, nodding to himself. "Good. I knew he was not a cruel man."

Felicity nodded, more to herself than to him. These last few days, whatever else had happened aside, had shown her that he was not cruel towards her. And maybe she was too hasty in making that opinion. Maybe he was lulling her into a false sense of security only to completely pull the rug from under her feet again. 

She changed the topic of conversation to her mother, knowing there was nothing else to be found, and resumed with her lunch.

 

                                                                         -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was almost 3 in the afternoon. The lunch had taken longer than she had expected. They had finished their meals talking about other things, from Felicity's mom to Anatoly's wife and how the house was too quiet without her, how her father had seemed more withdrawn lately, how the weather was changing. After paying for the bill, arguing that she could go back very well alone (and slipping in the white lie that Roy was waiting for her in the lot) and hugging him goodbye, she turned to leave for the parking lot, the wheels in her head turning with all the information she had and had not gathered. 

Which was probably why she didn't notice the sudden movement to her left till she collided with a strange man, falling to the ground on her hands and knees. Feeling the scrapes on her palms, she got up and caught her balance and glared at him, taking in his huge, big-like-Diggle huge, structure and his mean tattoos that covered his entire arms and neck. His hair was cropped close to his skull and the snarl in his mouth was as mean as the ink on his skin. Oh no. This was not a man she should be glaring at in an underground, secluded parking lot.

Without saying another word, she turned towards her car, her hands shaking with the sudden terror invading her bones, the key just not getting into the slot. Covertly, she looked up and her breath hitched. The man slowly started walking towards her, his eyes boring into hers, his hands clenched. Oh frack. Trying to calm her racing heart, she got more frantic, but finally got the key in the slot. Able to get inside the car, without any delay, she switched the ignition on and high-tailed it out of there, feeling the ugly eyes of the man on her car the entire way out. Her eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. The man just stood there, watching her, with a sinister smile on his face. Her blood chilled and she put the pedal to the floor.

Once out in the traffic, she let go of the breath she had been holding, telling her hands to quit it with the shaking. Okay. She could admit to herself it had been a bad, bad, bad idea to come out like this without Roy. She didn't even own a gun of her own, not that that would do her good since she didn't know how to use one anyways. She had always had a thing about guns. Her dad had never let her near them and she had heard one go off when she was a baby, and the sound had scared her since then. And she couldn't hurt a fly. Who on earth would ever think she was the daughter of a high-ranking Bratva member, and now the wife of another one? She was hopeless.

Eyeing the familiar curve towards the house, she turned into the driveway of the mansion, finally enjoying the wind on her face through the open windows, relaxing into the seat. She felt better, knowing she'd be home soon. And she didn't know why she thought of it as home, she just did. She took the turn towards where the drive ended on the steps of the mansion and she pressed breaks, her eyes widening. There, under the stone archway beside the pillars, stood Roy and Diggle, with at least five other men, and her husband, who was furiously pacing, closest to the gates, his agitation leashed inside his athletic body. His head turned sharply at the sound of her car breaking, and faster than she could have thought, he crossed the distance between them and opened the door, pulling her out.

She blinked wide-eyed at him as his gaze scanned every inch of her body thoroughly, his own body tight with tension, mouth pursed in a hard line. Once assured that she was unharmed, he did the most bizarre thing. He hugged her. Yup. Pulling-her-right-into-his-chest-and-holding-her-tight hug. To say she was shocked would be a bit of an understatement. She stood stiff and still, not really knowing how to react with his warmth surrounding her, his male, musky scent invading her senses, his heartbeat erratic under her ear. And with that last one, realization dawned upon her slowly with his wild heartbeat. He was not faking this. He could not fake that reaction. He had been genuinely worried about her.

An emotion she had not known she had been capable of feeling for him anymore crept up on her, making her relax in his embrace and twine her own arms around him. His own tightened infinitesimally at the gesture, his nose burrowing into her hair, smelling her, as he slowly calmed down, along with her. Unbeknownst to her, her own heart that had been fluttering frightened since the parking lot, only calmed down now. Maybe it was the hug, which she had to admit he was pretty good at giving, or just the need for comfort, but she felt safe, which was a stupid thing considering who she was hugging. Oliver Queen was the least safe thing for her. But that instinct of hers, which had pushed her into trusting him once, which had been dormant for almost three years, roared back to life at that moment. And that scared her more than the man in the parking lot, although he had been fifty shades of creepy. Huh. She had a weird brain.

Pulling back, she felt his arms tighten around her fractionally before he let her go, allowing her the much needed distance between them. She looked up at him, and watched in fascination as the concern slowly melted away, transitioning into a bone-deep anger that could have scared anyone else. Not her. She just tilted her chin up in defiance and watched the anger spike higher.

"Where were you?"

His voice, ground out through his teeth as it was, would have scared a lesser mortal too. She just raised her eyebrows. "Mind your tone, Oliver."

His eyes narrowed. "I'll mind my tone after you tell me where you were."

"And I'll tell you where I was after you mind your tone," she snapped back.

"Where the fuck were you?" he spoke loudly, making her flinch a little.

"None of your damn business," she shouted back at him.

They both stared at each other, their breathing heavy, waiting for the other to crack, aware of the many eyes on them. He grit his teeth visibly, the amazing line of his jaw flexing under the stubble.

"You are my wife..." he started.

"Not by choice," she reminded him.

"Where were you?"

"Well," she spoke lightheartedly, forcing a jovial tone. "Since your men won't give me the time of the day, at least not the way I would like, I was out rendezvousing with someone who would."

Oliver took a deep breath and pinched his nose. "We both know that infidelity is the least of the issue between us. So tell me, where were you really?"

"Will you just stop with the possessive thing? It is not cool," she commented, her own mouth ready to spit fire.

He blinked before a laugh escaped him, a laugh that made her flinch. He looked at her in complete disbelief, his mouth open. "You think I'm doing this because I'm feeling possessive?" The word sounded like a curse on his mouth, emphasized as it was. His voice dropped decibels, so only she could be privy to his words. "Fuck, yes, I am possessive about you. Yes I have the need to claim you burning through my veins like a fever that just won't go. But this, this is not because of that."

She folded her arms across her chest. "Really, then what is this for?"

"It's because I am doing everything in my power to protect you and you just won't quit making it harder for me," his voice ground out.

"Protecting me form what?" she demanded.

"I told you all I am going to," he said, mule-headed as ever. She ground her teeth.

"I told you all I am going to too," she stated back, hiking her bag on her shoulder and walking towards the door. All the men surrounding the gates parted to let her go through. God knew what all they had to endure in order to look for her, least of all the bad temper of one tantrum Queen, yet they all looked at her neutrally. Well, all except Roy. He was giving her the complete stink-eye. Which she did deserve. She'd make up to him later. Maybe put the Thea Temptation out. Or maybe not.

Shaking her head, she entered the mansion, aware of Oliver talking quietly to Diggle, and began climbing the stairs to her room. She had just entered the corridor when she felt his large, calloused hand spin her around and pin her against the wall. She blinked up at him in surprise as he just stared at her in that unnerving manner of his, his blue orbs holding a million questions for her. 

"солнешко," he whispered, one hand holding her waist against the wall, burning through the fabric of her dress, and the other hand tracing her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Please tell me where you were. I need to know."

She was taken aback by the actual request in the question, the urgency in his voice. She wet her lips with her tongue, watching his eyes follow the movement before coming back to hers. "I was at the Mall."

He exhaled, relaxing, his hand making soft designs on her skin. "And why couldn't you have taken anyone with you?"

Suddenly feeling childish about her actions, she looked down at his shoes, biting her lip again. "I just wanted to go alone."

His hand tilted her chin up, eyes locking on hers again, his thumb releasing the hold her teeth had on her mouth, rubbing the lip into color. Her heart pounded in her chest, as he spoke. "Felicity, you are your own woman, and I will never stop you from doing anything you wish to do. But I just want you to be more careful. Go alone, if you wish, but let someone know where you are. Roy is here because he is your friend. Take him with you. Leave him someplace close if you like. But just be cautious."

His forehead touched hers and he sighed, closing his eyes. "I can't have anything happen to you, солнешко."

Felicity's eyes closed as well, her heart beat thundering yet a wave of tranquility seeping into her. She liked this state of being. She knew she shouldn't but she did. "What will happen to me, Oliver?"

His voice came in a soft murmur, just an inch from her mouth. "Nothing, as long as there is a breath in my body."

"Who is going to harm me?" she whispered, wanting him to speak yet wanting him not to. The conflict inside her was killing her.

He brushed her nose with his. "I wish so much that I could tell you."

"Then tell me," she mumbled. 

They both stood like that, breathing together, watching each other, looking for answers in their silence, faces just a few heartbeats away. It would be so so easy to forget anything that happened and close that distance between them. It would be so so natural to get lost in the bliss she knew his mouth held, just little spaces away. 

Her lips trembled, needing and hating that need. He brushed her hair back from her face slowly, his eyes lit in understanding, in the knowledge that she felt it too. "I'm not going to give you another reason to hate me, Felicity. Or yourself. And we both know you will if we do this."

Felicity's eyes fluttered close as she felt his warm breath on her face. He was so close she could feel his scruff brushing her skin, making her tingle and greedy for him. Before she could do another thing, think another thing, feel another thing, though, he stepped back, leaving her hollow and gaping with desire. 

The cloud of lust slowly dissolved, and mortification took over like ice in her veins. She could not believe she had been ready to give up everything she was fighting for just because her hormones were hornier than a pubescent. Was she really that needy for a man? Or just this man?

"Hey."

She looked back up at him, at his soft eyes as he shook his head. "Nothing happened, Felicity. Don't beat yourself up about it."

She gaped at him, unable to understand how could he know her like this? How could he know that she would hate the both of them if that minute distance between them had closed? How could he know anything about who she had become?

Reining in her emotions, changing her embarrassment to righteous anger, she narrowed her eyes, getting back on the topic. "Who are you protecting me from?"

Oliver sighed, his shoulders heaving as he ran a hand up his hair. "Felicity..."

"I have a right to know!" she stepped forward, not really caring how loud she was being. "I am tired of you men deciding what is good for me. I want to know!"

Silence. She stomped her feet in frustration, turning towards her room, throwing her hands up. "Bloody pigheaded mule of a man! Argh!"

She saw Digg and Roy stand near the entrance of the corridor and flushed, thinking what they would have seen had they been a few minutes early. Stepping into his space, she poked his hard, muscled chest glaring at him. "You tell me on your own, Oliver Queen, or I swear to Google if I find out on my own, and I will, one way or another, you'll be barbecue!"

His lips twitched and it infuriated her even more. "вспыльчивая моя." 

Pursing her mouth, she turned to leave when suddenly he caught her hand, turning her palm up to look at the angry, red welts on it, from when she had fallen down on them. His eyes collided with hers and his jaw clenched. "What happened?"

Really? He had the audacity to demand answers while giving her none? She scowled. "I told you I was with a man. Things got heated."

It suddenly seemed like he had had enough. She saw the control in his eyes snap as he pulled her into his chest, boring her eyes with his intensity. "Quit with the lie and tell me how you got hurt."

"Quit with the caveman act and let me go!" she grit out.

One corner of his mouth quirked up, his eyes drilling hers. "You haven't seen caveman yet, вспыльчивая моя. If I were this caveman, you'd be too sore to walk in the morning. If I were this caveman, you'd not leave my bed to lie about another man. If I were this caveman, you'd be getting the "heat" of your life after the stunt you pulled today. But I am trying not to be. I am suppressing the part of me that wants to throw you over my shoulder and claim you as mine over and over again till you remember nothing but my name. I am trying. For you. So, don't test me, Felicity."

Her eyes had widened slightly by the end of that, her breath coming slightly erratic. She was not scared of him. For whatever reason, she knew he wouldn't physically hurt her. But it was his physical aura, his high-handed tactic, which both infuriated her and aroused her and she was disgusted with herself for feeling her blood heat up. 

"I am going to my room," she whispered, wanting to get away from him before she did something stupid. She was shaken up and that's why she was behaving this way. Yup. That was all. She needed distance and she needed perspective. She'd be fine.

He gazed at her for a minute, silently scrutinizing her, and released her. She literally ran to the door, shutting it on his eyes and collapsing against it. Her heart was thundering in her chest, her mind conjuring images of what had almost happened. Shit. She was in bigger trouble than she had thought if she had a hard time controlling herself around him. No. She could not afford to fall in lust with her husband. It was a bad, bad, bad idea.

Deciding to distract herself, she changed into comfortable clothes and cleaned her hands, wrapping them in gauze, and got to work on her laptop, trying to finish a software for a client, trying to exorcise blue, intense eyes from her mind.

 

                                                    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

A sudden noise startled her into waking up. She looked around the dark room, the only light coming from under her bathroom door, trying to discern what sound had come from where. Slowly getting up, her eyes adjusting to the dark, she saw a small shadow move near the window. Heart palpitating, she moved her hand to the bedside lamp, with shaking hands when suddenly the shadow jumped out, taking the form of a huge man, coming right at her. Eyes widening, her scream got trapped in her throat as he clamped a big, meaty hand over her face, trying to quieten her down.

Her breath was becoming shorter, white lights coming behind her eyelids. She had to do something. This man could take her and nobody would know. The panic gave her a sudden burst of strength as she struggled frantically against her would-be captor, trying to claw and bite away at him. He cursed, slapping her so hard she saw stars, before clamping down on her mouth again. 

Oliver.

She had to alert him. She knew he was a light sleeper. She just hoped he was in the room.

Her mind was going towards unconsciousness rapidly but she fought against it. 

Oliver. Tell Oliver. Alert Oliver. Oliver. 

She kept repeating it like a mantra, trying to discern any way of doing that, still struggling against the huge man, when suddenly her hand collided with the lamp she had been about to turn on. Knowing it was heavy and glass, with a last burst of her remaining strength, she shoved it off the table, hearing the very, very loud crash with satisfaction, before the white lights refused to be fought anymore.

She succumbed to oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> принцесса - Princess  
> Моя милая принцесса - My Little Princess  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
> вспыльчивая моя- My Wildcat (Credits to Crazypersongoingmad)
> 
> So, what did you think?
> 
> Also, if check out my soulmate fic Free Fall here (if you haven't) : http://archiveofourown.org/works/3397049/chapters/7434578
> 
> Say Hi to me on  
> Tumblr : supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com  
> Twitter : @dorky06


	10. Blazing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyya, peeps!
> 
> Thank you everyone for your spectacular response to the story!  
> I'm back with another chapter, as promised. _#PhoenixFridays_ :)
> 
> Stuff happens, obviously. And there is an entire conversation in Russian that my buttercup Lumenka so willingly and helpfully translated for me. I would be floundering without her and going to Google and eventually screwing up. So send her your thanks for that. :) And the translation is in the end as always. 
> 
> And don't forget to drop me a line. I'm always eager to know your thoughts, so go ahead. Enjoy!
> 
> Happy reading!!!

It felt like someone had clubbed her skull with Thor's hammer. Well, if anyone else could lift that hammer apart from that alien god, and well if that hammer did exist. This world was not of The Avengers. But her skull did not agree. It was adamantly telling her with every throb that it had been that hammer that had made out with her head. And her cheek felt bloated, swollen, just below her eye. She was not having a good day, apparently.

Asking her body to move, Felicity turned a little with a groan, her mind slowly letting go of the remnants of unconsciousness, becoming aware of the soft soil beneath her body, and the carpet of grass ticking her skin. She blinked her eyes open. It was dark, moonless, and windy. Her arms were littered with goosebumps. She heard some sounds coming from her right, and with effort, slowly turned her neck towards it, her head spinning madly and admonishing her for moving it. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her mad head and focusing on her breathing. Eventually, she opened them and looked at the blurry scene, squinting her eyes and trying to discern what was going on. She really wanted her glasses, damn it!

Little blobs of light were coming on at the entire house before her. It looked vaguely like the back of the mansion. Which would then imply that she was lying on the lawn near the back gates. But why was she lying on the grass in the middle of the night? She sure had some crazy urges once in a while but just out and out horizontal chit chat with the ground was really not her thing. At least she had never thought it was. Her head throbbed again and with sudden, blinding clarity she remembered. Her heart stuttered. There had been someone in her room. That someone had been huge and tried to muffle her breath in an attempt to kidnap her. And she had broken the lamp in her last ditch effort before going out for the count. And if she was lying outside the mansion then either his attempt at kidnapping her had not gone very well, or her attempt at not being kidnapped had.

Her eyes flickered to the blur of movements she could not clearly see, but was hearing, sounds of grunts and groans and yells in pain. Two men were going hand to hand not very far from her. She squinted her eyes more and could suddenly make out the huge man, still blurred, pushed to the ground by Oliver. Shirtless Oliver in his pajamas. She had the sudden urge to giggle. Shirtless Oliver in his pajamas inducing fear in men at night and saving unsuspecting wives from abduction attempts. Well, only one wife. Her.

But she could not deny the way she could feel herself relaxing, her heart slowing down in relief, her eyes tearing up just a little that he was there, that he had come for her, like she had hoped he would, but still uncertain. She wasn't uncertain anymore. He had come. He was there and fighting for her. Her emotions suddenly overwhelmed her, not understanding this man at all. Who was he? Was the man who was landing an impressive uppercut on her would-be kidnapper the same man who had ruthlessly walked all over her heart? Was the man who had come to her rescue at the sound of breaking glass the same man who had blackmailed her into marriage, but for her own protection as he claimed? Was the man who was hitting the man with a violence that should have scared her but did not the same man who had wrapped her so tenderly in his arms when she had just scraped her palms? Who was this man? How could he inflame her with his mere presence and still become the safe anchor she unknowingly sought?

She watched as Oliver got the man in a tight choke hold, his lithe grace and agility no match for the other man's size, just like once she had seen him take down two men years ago, his body tight with tension, his arms wrapped around the other man's thick neck and coiled to spring and she suddenly knew he was close, very very close to dropping him on the ground without a pulse and she didn't want that. After knowing the way he never killed unless in defense, unless in protection, she didn't want him changing that, not for her. Slowly summoning her efforts, she opened her mouth, praying her voice reached him and croaked out. "Oliver?" 

She didn't know what she was asking- for him not to kill, for him to let the man go, for him to come to her. She didn't know but she saw him still, his face turning to her, and freeze for a long moment, while the man grappled helplessly to get out of his iron arms.

All of a sudden, chaos erupted and everything became motion. The house lit up behind her completely, tense men coming out in speed with weapons, followed by a concerned Thea and Raisa who stopped at the door, shouting something incoherent. Roy and Diggle were leading, running forward towards her but Oliver's curt voice stopped them.

"Digg. Roy."

They halted to look at him, some silent macho communication thing happening between them and they changed direction, heading for Oliver, taking the man from him and restraining the man in their holds while Oliver jogged towards where she lay on the ground. He crouched down beside her and she could see him clearly now, see the remnants of rage in his eyes, his own anger warring with the concern for her as he glanced at the man behind him that Diggle was keeping.

Unable to see him like that, she instinctively laid a hand to the closest body part to her, which happened to be his knee and squeezed a little. She watched him turn to her, his coiled body still hyped up on adrenaline, wanting to act but he was making an effort to calm down, easing his breaths, getting his own body under his fiery control. He raised a hand to her bruised cheek, ghosting his fingers over it, looking at her with the stark terror he had felt bare on his face. Her heart clenched for him. He didn't say a word, he didn't need to, but just ghosted her cheek with his hand, like the repeated motion could wipe the wound away, not focusing on anything behind him, not focusing on anything but her, with that singular focus he had.

After minutes of just looking, he suddenly put a hand under her head, cradling her neck and another under her knees, hiking her up and standing in a swift motion. Her world tilted and she gripped his naked, muscular shoulders for support, not being able to understand how she could find his strength hot at a time like this. Well, there was no time for hotness, was there? She should have objected to him carrying her, but she didn't. For one, she knew her legs would crumple beneath her right now if she tried to stand, and secondly, his arms were surprisingly comfortable. She snuggled in deeper and he welcomed her. 

They turned towards where Diggle stood with Roy and ten other men, surrounding the man who did not look that huge anymore. Now that there was light from the house on the grounds, she saw his face clearly and gasped. It was the same man who had accosted her in the parking lot that day, the one she had run away from.

She felt Oliver's sharp eyes on her, felt his arms tighten around her as she stared at the man. Evil guy stared back, his mouth curled in a snarl, his nasty leer curling her stomach badly. He knew she had been scared shit that afternoon, he knew she had run away in fear, and he had enjoyed it. The bastard. Her anger spiked, and suddenly she wanted to hit the man with a violence she had never felt. How dare he do that to her? How dare he even try to take her away from her home? To kill her?

She struggled to get down, squirming a little and felt Oliver's arms tighten more, solidly holding her against his chest like she was a cub. She was a woman! Turning to glare at him, she saw him look back at her evenly, imperceptibly shaking his head. He had this under control. She stared at him for a second longer, then relaxed back, knowing he was going to handle it with the appropriate amount of anger on both their behalves. 

The man suddenly laughed, like evil villains did in movies before beheading sheep, and Felicity turned to look at him. He was looking at Oliver though, addressing him, his Russian accent thick and dirty.

"You think you can stop us? No, Mr. Queen. They know where she is," his eyes flickered down to roam over her body. It was fascinating to feel Oliver's reaction right against her. He did not speak, but every muscle in his body tensed, his fingers flexing around her. To anyone else, he would appear unaffected, stoic. He was anything but. Who was this man who was so affected for her, yet suppressed every reaction for her? 

The other man continued, but switched to Russian, which she understood a little. "Мы доберемся до нее. По одному. Ты же знаешь, что Ильич всегда выполняет свои обещания."

She caught 'come' and 'one' and 'Ilyich' from that, which made as much sense to her as computer codes probably did to Oliver. But this had made sense to him if his reaction was anything to go by.

Oliver's chest rumbled before he spoke, his voice so low and dangerous it reminded her of that night he had threatened Palmer. "Только через мой труп. Только тронь ее."

The man grinned at her, leering and she wanted to punch him. "уже сделано."

Oliver seemed to be having similar thought as took a step towards him and she looked at his face, one side of his mouth curling up while his eyes remained frosty. "И это была твоя последняя ошибка."

The man's face paled slightly and she got curious. She had absolutely no clue what they had talked about, only catching snippets of words but something told her it had been about her. Well obviously since it had been her life the man had been interrupted from ruining.

Oliver turned to the other men, looking hard and solemn, speaking so firmly she knew it was an order. "Никто не заходит и не выходит отсюда без моего разрешения, ясно?"

They all nodded. 

Oliver turned to Diggle, switching back to English. "Take him to the basement. I'll come in a few minutes."

After a curt nod, everyone went into motion, moving to their positions and going back to work silently, leaving the lawn empty of everyone except Oliver and her and Roy.

He came forward, his eyes apologetic. "I haven't been a good bodyguard, have I?"

Felicity softened, knowing his brood face well. "Rubbish, Roy. No one could have done anything about that," she whispered, her voice hoarse from where the man had tried to strangle her once.

Oliver spoke to Roy at last, his voice firm and holding no argument. "She is right. But, tonight, while I am not here, her life is your responsibility. And anything happens to her..."

"It won't. Not on my life," Roy promised with grit, his eyes on her. "I'll help Diggle out while you take her up."

Oliver nodded and finally turned towards the house, holding her close and cocooned against his hard muscles, to where Thea stood near the doors with Raisa, both of them clearly having disrupted their sleep from their attires. 

"Ollie?" her voice shook. "Felicity? Are you alright?"

Felicity nodded slightly, not wanting to speak again. Oliver did, reassuring his sister in a soft voice. "It's okay, Speedy. Go sleep. You can talk to her tomorrow. She needs to rest too."

Thea nodded in understanding, coming forward to kiss her on the forehead surprisingly, looking solemnly at her. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Felicity smiled slightly and nodded, touched at her concern, at everyone's concern. 

"Raisa, could you bring some ice to the room, with a kit?"

At Raisa's helpful nod, Oliver exhaled and steered towards the stairs, still not looking at her, not talking to her, just holding her and walking up towards their rooms. She didn't get it. Why the heck wasn't he saying anything? About tonight? Or her? Not understanding this man, she rested her head against his warm chest and listened to his heart beats, slightly faster than it should be. It must be the fading adrenaline.

They reached the corridor and he walked past her door, heading towards his own. She looked back at hers and gulped. 

"Um. Oliver, we just passed my room?" It came out as a question for some reason. He didn't respond. He didn't stop, just opened the door to the dark room and headed straight for the rumpled bed he had obviously slept in, depositing her on it with a gentleness she hadn't thought him capable of. Okay. She was noticing way too much for her own good.

Distracting her mind from his shirtless glory, she watched him switch on the lamp beside the bed and take a tray from Raisa from the door, softly saying something to her in Russian. He shut the door and came towards where she sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes taking in his body for the first time in the light in three long years. He had always had some scars on his torso, scars that she had mapped lovingly three years ago, telling him they never had made him ugly, they had made him strong and so so beautiful to her. She had always believed that. Always believed that his scars had been a mark of his strength, of his fortitude, of his will to survive in an ugly situation where anyone else would have given up. Anyone else but him. And that is why she had loved his body more. It had been a temple of flesh, for the man it held. Three years ago, she had worshiped that temple with her hands, would have with her entire being if he had not broken her trust.

She gazed at that temple now, gazed at the beautiful flesh that was even more marred than it had been, littered with scars like she had never seen. She mapped them with her eyes, from his Bratva tattoo to his abs to everywhere she could see. How many weapons had this man survived? How many angry attacks? How much hate? How had he? Who was this man that she felt like she knew better than anyone but knew not at all?

In the lamp light, her eyes roved up, slowly going to his stubble, the magnificent line of jaw, to up his mouth and to his eyes. His beautiful, haunted, blue eyes that just roved her face, letting her look, letting her see, letting her think. He slowly kneeled down before her on the floor, their eyes locked as her head moved to see him. He was just below her eye level, only slightly, as he knelt between her legs, putting the tray beside her on the bed, not moving his eyes from her at all.

She swallowed once, asking softly. "Why am I here, Oliver?"

He took a wet cloth from the tray, slowly wiping her cheek, so so gently that she barely winced. "Where else would you be, Felicity?"

Felicity huffed out in exasperation. "Stop being obtuse. You know what I mean."

His lips curved a little, but he continued cleaning the wound that felt like it had bloated up in the last hour. "You are going to sleep here from now on. Because I respected your privacy and gave you your own space, but it almost got you..."

"Oliver..."

"Look," he continued quietly, "I know that's the last thing you want but it's okay. I'll sleep on the couch. I'll sleep on the ground. Hell, I won't sleep at all, but you won't be sleeping away from me again. Please, Felicity."

She huffed again, which was hard to do with the rag pressed against the side of her face, knowing he had a point. "Fine. What happened? What did I miss?"

She watched closely as the corner of his mouth tightened, his eyes hardening as it held her gaze. "I woke up."

She waited for him to elaborate, and after five minutes, when he did not, she slapped him on his arm, watching his eyes flare in surprise. 

"I said stop with the obtuse!"

He put the rag back in the tray, picking up a tube of cream, his facing comparatively relaxed. "You are such a wildcat. And I haven't been more grateful for it than I was tonight. You put up quite a fight, вспыльчивая моя."

She flushed at the praise. "I thought you might be alerted if I broke the lamp."

"And I was," he said, dabbing the antiseptic on her cheek. She winced and watched him wince too. He was so open with her yet so obtuse. Who was this man?

The cool cream was working already, stinging her cheek in that healing way creams did. 

Oliver sighed, putting his arms beside her thighs, caging in her legs. "I heard the crash and ran to check. You were gone and your balcony door was open. I figured someone had used the ladder there. I went out to see him run across the lawn with you and stopped him."

Felicity felt her heart pound in her ribs, hearing what he wasn't saying, what wild thoughts had grazed his head, what speed his heart had beaten in, what terror had invaded him. She raised her hand to his head, hesitating just before making contact, but finally touching his hair, running her fingers through it like she used to, like she needed to, like he needed her to. She saw his eyes close at her touch, and she closed her own, savoring the sensation of his soft hair against her palm.

"Thank you."

His eyes opened at her whispered words, the intensity in them making her breath hitch for a split second. He looked and looked and whispered back, "Don't thank me, Felicity. I wouldn't even have known if you hadn't..." he clenched his eyes, his body shuddering before he suddenly got up and took the tray away to a table, pacing before her.

"Oliver? It's okay," she said, not understanding his sudden mood swing. 

"No, Felicity," he turned to her, his wild eyes on hers, " _it is not okay!_ Don't you get it?"

"Get what?" she asked confused.

He took in a deep breath. "I promised to keep you safe yet I don't even know my house has been invaded and you are in danger till you alert me? What if you hadn't been able to do that? What if he had just come in and taken you? What if he had poisoned you? Or drugged you? What if he had ki... What would I have fucking done in any of that? Just a door away!" 

He was shaking by the end of it, his hands clenched, his breathing erratic. She watched him with wide eyes, stunned by the depth of his emotion, stunned by the pain in his eyes, stunned by the ingenuity on his face. It was that ingenuity that gave her the courage to go beyond her own rational mind, to do the one thing she had refrained from initiating since she saw him again, the one thing she knew worked in calming him down. 

She stood up on shaky legs, standing for a moment to gain her balance, and crossed the three steps to him, just looking up at his eyes and breathing. Then she slowly put her arms under his, wrapping them around his chest to his back and pressed into his warm muscles. His tense, tight muscles, after a few seconds, relaxed, one by one till he wrapped her in his embrace, tight and close, pressing her head into his chest. She heard his heart beat again and realized that she liked that sound, liked this place. After the crazy night they had had, this comfort felt so so significant, and so so precious. And again she questioned to herself like the hundredth time that night. Who was this man who had broken her heart yet embraced her like he never would? 

She closed her eyes and spoke softly, "You saved me, and that is all that matters."

He buried his nose in her hair, sighing. And then he tensed again, pulling back his head and looking down at her. Jeez, did the man ever relax for more than a blink?

"You gasped when you saw the man," he said and she cursed his powers of observation. "Where did you recognize him from?"

She bit her lip, deflecting, "Um..."

His eyes narrowed and he stepped back, folding his arms across his chest, his shirtless torso doing absolutely nothing to let her mind focus. On anything but his torso. Holy expletives.

"Where have you seen him before?" he asked, like a dog with a bone. A big, muscular dog, and not the cute, fluffy kind. She doubted he did cute or fluffy. He rocked hard and broody and occasional smiley, though.

"Felicity!" he said loudly, dragging her eyes away from those come-hither-touch-me muscles. What forearms he had. Who the hell had tempting _forearms?_

"I met him at the parking lot," she said, dithering.

And she was wrong. He could do cute too. The furrow between his brows was cute. "What parking lot?"

"At the Mall," she said, shuffling on her feet. She could see it clicking in his head as his eyes flickered to her bandaged hands, which she suddenly hid behind her back.

"When?" he asked, eyes narrowed, already knowing the answer. She bit her lip and he cursed loudly. "What did he do?"

"Oliver..."

"Tell me what he did now!" he yelled, furious.

She narrowed her eyes, all tenderness forgotten. "Mind your tone, mister," she warned in her loud voice. "You don't talk to me like that."

He took a step closer, trying to intimidate her with his size and she tilted her chin in defiance. He spoke in his low voice, "You give me the answer now, Felicity."

She scowled at him. "He bumped into me, I fell, he creeped me out and I ran. End of story, you stubborn man."

"You felt off about some guy and you didn't think it wise to tell me?" he shouted, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Why would I when you won't tell me what's going on?" she yelled back, equally frustrated. Her head was starting to throb bad now. But they held each other's eyes, the anger and tension thick in the air between them, so much that she could have cut it with her fingernail had it been longer. She had the bad habit of biting it. 

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, before holding her arms and looking at her. "I know you don't trust me, and you don't have any reason to. But I need you to know that I will protect you. I need you to know that, at least."

Felicity blinked back at him, confused. "But I do know that, Oliver."

She rolled her eyes at his surprise and went on. "Yes, I may not trust you but that is emotional, for the shit you did three years ago. Right now, I don't know why you are obsessed with my safety, but I do know that you mean that much at least. That was the only reason I broke that lamp. Because I knew that."

Oliver closed his eyes and touched her forehead with his, just breathing quietly. "Thank you."

She closed her eyes too. "I should sleep now."

"Yes you should."

Neither of them moved. They just stood there, in that moment. A knock on the door startled her and Oliver's hand tightened on his arm before he let her go with a sigh. 

"I'll be there in a few minutes," he spoke loudly, pressing her shoulder to make her sit on the bed. Whoever it was outside shuffled away, Oliver turned towards the table where he kept the tray and Felicity's mind churned with questions.

"What did you tell that man outside? In Russian?" she asked, bouncing a little on the soft mattress. 

He turned his neck to glance at her, before getting back to whatever he was doing near the table. "Just stuff."

"Stuff concerning me?" she pressed on. He shrugged, his impressive back muscles flexing in a way that made her mouth water, the dragon on his shoulder beckoning her to feel it. She swallowed and fisted her hand. Lusting after her husband was the biggest irony any wife anywhere could think of. The fact that the man she lusted after who was her husband and had been her almost lover made her life an irony. And comic. This had all the makings of a good TV show. Mystery, murder, mayhem and mob. She stifled a laugh and focused on his back, which was very easy to focus on. It had all started when she had been ogling his back, and his butt. What a butt.

She cleared her throat. "Tell me what you said. Not knowing is annoying."

He finally turned and came to her, with a glass in one hand and a tablet in the other. He put both out, but she raised her eyebrows, waiting for his answer. Stubborn man just waited her out too. With a huff she took the tablet and swallowed the water, glaring at him. 

"The wound on your head is my fault," his right hand came to touch her skull, him looming over her. "He dropped you when I tackled him and you hit your head, I hope it's not too bad," he probed behind her head with his long fingers. 

"It's fine," she spoke, her voice sounding throatier than she had intended. His hand froze, cupping the back of her skull as he leaned over where she sat, his eyes boring into hers.

"Stop me, Felicity," he whispered over her, leaning with one knee beside her, his breath ghosting over her face. "Tell me to go right now."

Felicity could not find it in herself to. What she did find was that she wanted this. She had wanted this for so, so long. She wanted to feel his lips against hers, brushing them like he used to. Would her still claim her mouth with his tongue? Would he still sip and feast on her lips like she had nectar swiped across them? Would he still nibble and bite till they swelled with need? Would it still be the perfect blend of expertise and sloppy? She needed to know these answers. She had to. Yes, he was the man who had broken her years ago but he was also a stranger. He was still temptation and she was so, so tempted. 

She swiped her tongue across her lips, watching his eyes latch onto the action, darkening, heating. "Tell me you hate me, Felicity."

The need in his voice, how he was barely controlling himself, was undoing her. But was she ready to change their dynamic? Was she ready to sink into whatever this was?

She closed her eyes, calling for her strength and for the first time, not really wanting to for the first time. "Go, Oliver."

Why hadn't she said she hated him? He stepped back, nodding with a rueful smile on his face that broke her heart. He turned to go and her arm shot out to stop him before she could stop it.

"Oliver, I..." she floundered for words, not really knowing what she wanted to say.

She saw his face soften as he cupped her cheek and pressed her to lie down, tucking her in. "I know, Felicity. I know."

What did he know? She had absolutely no idea. She didn't know. What was there to know? But his face told him it was alright, whatever he knew. She sank back, watching him.

"I'm going to go for some time. Roy will keep watch outside," he said softly. "But you need anything, you call for me. No hesitation, okay?"

She hesitated in her nod. He smiled softly. "Let me take care of you."

The earnestness in his expression had her nodding. He breathed her in, brushing his lips across her forehead, muttering something into her skin.

 

"Я собираюсь дать каждому дыхание , чтобы защитить вас , даже от меня, солнешко."

 

She had no idea what it meant, but as he left the room, shutting the door behind himself, she knew it was a promise.

She turned and finally took in his room for the first time. It was huge but surprisingly cozy. There was a window seat filled with green and brown cushions on the left, after which was the door to his balcony that was a mirror of hers. The connecting door to her room was exactly in front of the bed, on the right of which was a small table and a couch, right in front of a fireplace. He had a fireplace in the bedroom. Now, that gave her bunnies in her head. The bed was huge, more than big to accommodate five people, and soft and warm with a lot of pillows against the solid headboard. The bed smelled like him, particularly the pillow beneath her head. His musky, woodsy scent. She was on his pillow and he had put her there. Shaking her head, she looked at the door he had shut, to her right, brown like the room. The entire room was like a tree, all fifty shades of green and brown. 

With a chuckle, she turned on her back and looked up at the ceiling and the chuckle died down in her throat. Where she had expected solid brick and stone, there was a mirror. He had a mirror as the ceiling in the entire room. She could see herself on the huge bed, looking so small surrounded by his pillows, and the image, the thought aroused her more than it should have. The man had a mirror instead of a ceiling. Oliver had a mirror instead of a ceiling. Maybe she wasn't that far off in the fifty shades remark. 

Who had mirror in place of a ceiling?

And she asked herself for the millionth time that night. Who was this man?  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> MAN:  
> Мы доберемся до нее - We are going to come for her.  
> По одному - One by one.  
> Ты же знаешь, что Ильич всегда выполняет свои обещания - You know that Ilyich always keeps his promises.
> 
> OLIVER:  
> Только через мой труп- Over my dead body.  
> Только тронь ее - Just touch her.
> 
> MAN:  
> уже сделано - Already did.
> 
> OLIVER:  
> (To man) И это была твоя последняя ошибка - And it was your last mistake.  
> (To his men) Никто не заходит и не выходит отсюда без моего разрешения, ясно? - Nobody comes and goes without my permission, okay?  
> (To Felicity)  
> вспыльчивая моя - My wildcat.  
> Я собираюсь дать каждому дыхание , чтобы защитить вас , даже от меня - I'm going to give each breath to protect you , even from me, little sunshine.
> 
> So what did you think?
> 
> Also, if check out my soulmate fic Free Fall here (if you haven't) : http://archiveofourown.org/works/3397049/chapters/7434578
> 
> Come say Hi to me on  
> Tumblr : _supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com_  
>  Twitter : _@dorky06_


	11. Shooting Sparks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Thank you so so much for being awesome and sticking with the story so well! #PhoenixFridays
> 
> I apologize for not being able to update this week as I was swamped with work and well, Olicity sex, yay! Wasn't it an absolutely glorious scene?
> 
> Anyways, all my work is done and here I am and I will be updating according to schedule only. TUESDAYS AND FRIDAYS.
> 
> Here's the next chapter. Stuff happens. All Russian is from lovely Lumenka ;)
> 
> Drop me your thoughts. I love hearing from the readers! Enjoy! :)
> 
> Happy reading!!!

 

Felicity stared up at the ceiling, the mirror, watching her own reflection dwarfed by the bed around her, her hair fanned out over the green pillows, the clock striking 11 beside her. It had been a week of her watching this every night, of sleeping in this bed every night, and she still wasn't used to it. It felt sinful, watching herself on those sheets, surrounded by the opulence, letting her imagination run wild. But she wasn't used to it. One week had passed and she had barely even seen her husband. He had been very, very busy apparently with some business, too busy to even acknowledge her existence. She didn't know why that made her upset but it did and she didn't understand it and that made her angry.

Oliver had been so busy that he had studiously avoided her, even when living in the same room. A part of her was impressed since it was no easy feat to pull off. He was up and out of the room before she woke up and came in late after she had slept. What he did in the meantime, she did not know. But while he did not acknowledge her existence, he made sure his men did. Ever since the night of the break-in, the security had grown ten-folds in the house itself. She had, over the days, started interacting with the men and the one thing she gathered was that they were all taking the breach personally, like they had somehow failed their Captain. And don't even get her started on how they behaved around her. While they had been vigilant before, now it had become stifling. She could not walk anywhere in the house without eyes following her, could not laugh in the kitchen with Raisa or watch movies with Thea or just work in her office without knowing men were hovering around, ready to burst in at the slightest sound. She had appreciated it for the first two day, then not so much. It was stifling and suffocating and she was royally pissed because she didn't even know what it was for.

Over the past week, she had devised and discarded at least ten dozen plans on how to get to the evidence against her father and finally an opportunity had presented itself when she had been told by Diggle, on behalf of her elusive husband, that they had been invited to her old house for a Bratva party that her father was throwing, and they had to attend it the next night. And she had suddenly known that her father's office was the last resort if she hoped to find any physical, incriminating evidence because Oliver had told her that there was no digital proof anywhere. Knowing her skills as he did, she believed he wouldn't be idiotic enough to do that. But he was idiotic enough to avoid her for an entire week.

Yup. She was pissed and every night she had fallen asleep, tired from the day and woken up knowing she had missed him again. Oh, she knew he had come to the room every night, like he had said he would. The signs of his presence lingered after he left- the cushions on the couch would be dented, the room would smell woodsy and muskier than it had the night before, the mirror in the bathroom would be steamed from his shower. And one night, when she had fallen asleep reading on her tablet, she had woken up to find it placed on the bedside table, with her glasses folded neatly on top of it and herself tucked in. And with blinding clarity, she had known that it had been he who had tucked her in the night of their wedding too, and not Roy. And she did not like the way her heart fluttered at the thought.

Speaking of Roy, she had closely observed him the past week and noticed subtle changes in him. He had stopped giving Oliver the stink-eye and instead something more along the lines of respect had replaced it. Her logical mind told her there could be many reasons for that but her gut told her it was because Roy knew. He was in on whatever was going on and he still hadn't told her and she was starting to get raving mad at all the pigheaded men around her. She had tried to lure answers out of Diggle and all she had gotten were indulgent smiles and an infuriating poker face. Roy had been very vigil in her protection but it was high time to corner him now. He was her friend first, his loyalty was to her first and not to her husband who sneaked in and out of their bedroom like a snake. And no, it wasn't their bedroom like their bedroom, just the room they both slept in. Separately. And without her knowledge to the timings he kept.

Setting her jaw, she switched on the lamp and got down from the bed, so, so done and so, so angry that she knew she needed answers or she would explode. Pulling her hair back into a messy bun, she pushed her feet into slippers and marched to the door. Gripping the handle, she pulled it open and slammed it behind her as she walked down the corridor. The man standing guard outside the door looked at her in surprise and started coming after her with slight hesitation.

"Mrs. Queen?"

Mrs. Queen, his ass! She felt like a prisoner and not the lady of this house and she was going to establish who was who. Not stopping at the guard's voice, her steps angry and forceful, she started down the stairs, aware of the increasing number of guards coming around her, alerted by her behavior.

"Where is Mr. Queen?" she asked Jack, a familiar face in the security detail that she knew, her voice sharp and curt.

The four mean around her, all huge and intimidating, stood stoic. Well, they didn't know her Loud Voice. She unleashed it, at the end of her rope.

"Where is he?"

The men flinched before one of them pointed towards the door that led to the basement. She looked at it for a minute. Thea had told her how the basement was forbidden to them. That was where Oliver and his men interrogated people, or worse, tortured them, and only a few people were allowed inside. She dithered for a second, not knowing whether to enter that area, but her anger overrode her hesitation and she approached the door with the same quick steps, aware of the tensed men behind her.

"You should not enter there, Mrs. Queen," the guard who had been outside her door, whose name she did not know, warned her. She stopped in her tracks and realized that these men saw Oliver as their boss and saw her as his wife, but they did not realize what being his wife meant for her.

She looked the man straight in the eye, softening her gaze, knowing he was genuinely concerned for her but said firmly. "This is my house and I can go where I please. Don't stop me again."

With that, she approached the door and opened it, entering and closing it behind her, just standing on top of a set of stairs. The basement smelled of disinfectants and cleaners. It was dark near the stairs but she could see light coming from beyond and slowly she descended, following the light, down a narrow corridor. As she went deeper, she could hear sounds- grunts and flesh hitting flesh and she wondered for a moment if she should proceed. But she knew she would go crazy if she didn't and falling back on her anger, she walked forward and finally entered a huge clearing, lit up with a set of lights on the corners of the huge space. She took it in.

There was a shelf full of weapons that she didn't even know the names of, some metallic chairs and a table, that weird metal thing she had seen in the basement of Thea's club with the metal bar in between. The left was apparently some sort of workout zone because she saw at least five dummies and a lot of training mats, upon which Diggle and Roy and her avoider of a husband were fighting, all shirtless, two against one. She watched enthralled for a moment, remembering that time when she had seen him fight two against one at her house three years ago, watched his body moved like a coiled spring of strength, so much more lethal than it had been, so much power contained in each controlled movement. And then she became furious.

With loud steps, she walked towards them, watching them halt in their movements, sheen of perspiration glistening on their skins, surprise taking over their faces in such a comical sync as they saw who it was that she would have laughed had she not been fuming.

"What are you doing here?" Oliver asked, blinking away the surprise, his voice rough. She didn't give a rat's ass.

Ignoring him, she folded her arms across her panda printed t-shirt and pinned Roy with her gaze. "You and me. Talk. Now."

She watched aghast as Roy hesitated. He actually hesitated and she snapped. "Now!"

Nodding, Roy went to get a t-shirt and she tapped her foot in impatience. She felt Oliver move to the weird metal thing and a sudden clanging noise made her turn her head and then she literally stumbled over her own feet. She watched unabashedly as her husband, who she knew had a killer body, climbed up the metal thing, one at a time, his abs rippling, his hips thrusting forward before each jump in a sinful way, his muscles flexing deliciously and her mouth watered so bad. He was defying gravity. He was doing something she had never seen before and she felt her body heating just watching his move, the strength of his muscles flabbergasting her, the control in his movement making her feel hotter. With each climb upwards, her temperature spiked another degree. How the hell did he expect her to survive him with this image tattooed now in her memory and that dang mirror on the ceiling? How the hell was she supposed to stay angry when her brain was completely and totally fried from the hotness that was him?

A throat cleared behind her and she flushed, turning to see Roy wearing a slightly amused expression, and that made her push aside the Ladder of Lust from her addled brain. Yeah well, she didn't know what else to call it and it seemed appropriate. Gritting her teeth, she went up the stairs and Roy followed, opening the door back to the house. Not stopping, and going into the gardens with him, she finally, when they were away from any eavesdropping ears, turned around and glared at him the way she knew made his heart sink.

"Care to tell me since when did your little bromance become more important than our friendship?" she asked, infusing her voice with venom.

Roy thrust his hands in his red hoodie, frowning. "It's not."

"Really?" she raised her eyebrows, dragging out the word. "In that case, tell me what's going on?"

She watched his face close up and grit her teeth. "Felicity. It's a security matter. I can't talk about it with you."

"Bullshit," she took a step forward, pointing her finger at him. "Nobody is telling me what's happening and that is pissing me. And you know me well enough to know I don't like being pissed."

At the obvious anger on her face, Roy gulped. "Feli.."

"Talk. Now. Or I swear I am going to turn the entire security in this place upside down!"

Sighing, Roy gave up, knowing she was pigheaded too, hunching his shoulders. "What do you want to know?"

A wave of giddiness went over her as he caved. Good. "Well, start by telling me what's got you worshiping the man you couldn't stand a week ago?"

Leaning back into a wall, Roy shrugged. "I realized that we both want the same thing- your safety."

She blinked in surprise. "And what made you realize that?"

Roy stared at her for a moment, before speaking. "After the night we caught that man, Oliver interrogated him. And it wasn't pretty. But he was adamant about knowing how he got through security and how he knew where to find you. It took two days to crack him, but he did and he spilled that someone on the inside had helped him out. He didn't know who it was because they had not met, but there was a mole in the security."

Felicity inhaled sharply, stunned into silence by the information. Roy continued. "I had never seen Oliver so livid. He didn't kill the man though. He sent him someplace, I don't know where. But the only people who know this are Diggle and I. He told us implicitly not to trust anyone about this, that we were the only two he trusted with you."

Taking in the information, her mind whirring, she asked. "Then what about the man outside my door tonight?"

"Two guys, handpicked by Digg. They have been okayed by the boss too," Roy informed her. He took a deep breath, rubbing his neck. "Look, I know I can't say anything about your marriage. But one friend to another, don't give him any grief over this."

She raised her eyebrows again, crossing her arms. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," Roy spoke softly, "that he has spent the last five days trying to find the mole and managing other stuff. He has barely slept and he is out of his mind with worry, although not everyone knows that. All for your protection."

Felicity huffed. "So that excuses him for his behavior this past week?"

Roy shook his head. "Only you can decide that, Felicity. I'm just telling you the other side."

With that, he turned and waited for her to follow him, escorting her back inside in silence and depositing her right outside her door. Just as she was about to go in, something clicked in her head and she whirled around to face him, whispering one last question. "You know anything about what he has on my father?"

Roy sighed and shook his head. "No. The only thing of business we talk about is your safety. They don't talk about any other business in front of me at all."

Knowing he was telling the truth, she bid him goodnight and entered the room, shutting the door behind her, her eyes landing on the big shirtless bundle of muscles lying on the couch that was too small for him. His hair was damp from the shower, his eyes glued to her as she crossed to the bed and got in the blankets. Not uttering a single word, she switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, the only light coming from the moon through the glass windows. She lay on her back, staring at the mirror, at her reflection, before her eyes drifted to his and locked over the mirror.

He lay staring at her, and their gazes hooked on the mirror, the shadows in the room giving the entire thing an ethereal effect. They just looked at each other, and armed with the knowledge of how sucky his week had been and how totally angry she still was at him, she thought it best to just ignore him.

Well, except the staring. She had just seen him do the Ladder of Lust and the last time she checked, she had ovaries. Duh.

"You shouldn't have come down there," he finally spoke, softly, his voice carrying over to her as he looked at her.

She didn't reply, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from responding. She had so many questions she wanted to ask. And she knew he wouldn't answer any of them.

He sighed at her lack of response and spoke again. "Don't you want to ask me why I have been avoiding you?"

She didn't want to respond again so she bit her cheek harder and didn't, turning on her side and breaking their gazes. She heard him sigh again before he spoke out in a soft voice. "Sweet dreams, солнешко."

The blaze in his blue eyes becoming too much for her, she turned and closed her eyes.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

A loud grunt woke her up. She blinked groggily for a few seconds, unable to understand the source of the sound, before the remembered her abduction attempt and shot up in bed, switching on the lamp and immediately bathing the room in light, her heart just starting to pound. But it was empty. Frowning, she looked around confused before the sound came again and her eyes flew to her sleeping husband.

Oliver, whose tall, broad frame barely fit on the couch, was convulsed around the cushions, his body tight and strained, his face scrunched up in pain, sweat shining on his body despite the cool temperature of the room. Getting down from the bed, she walked forward barefoot, slowly, watching his body convulse in pain and shudder, his posture like he was restrained and her heart clenched, her eyes tearing up. He was having a nightmare. How many nightmares had he had? How many nights did he wish for plain sleep? How many pains had he endured, even in his unconscious mind? How many times had he writhed in pain all alone?

With a certainty, she decided not again. She may not trust him with her heart, and he had trampled all over her trust, but he did not deserve this pain. No one did. And he wouldn't go through it alone as long as she could help.

Not knowing what to do exactly, but deciding to go with her instinct, she cautiously kneeled beside him, careful not to startle him awake, and placed a finger over his brow lightly. He flinched and her heart ached. Had he felt a loving touch ever?

Slowly, lightly, she started tracing his brow, repeatedly, over and over again, watching the strain on his forehead relax slightly, the furrow lines creasing out.

"Felicity..." he muttered, turning his neck towards her touch, seeking it more and his unconscious gesture touched something deep inside her she hadn't known existed.

"I'm here," she whispered back, caressing his brow, watching him relax slowly more and more.

"Felicity," his muffled voice murmured again, touching her again.

She kept up with the motion, till he was completely relaxed and deeply asleep, snoring very, very lightly, before just looking at him. He looked so young sleeping like this, not having the weight on his shoulders, not having the stress mar his forehead. So innocent.

But she knew he was not. He was not innocent of a lot of things. He was not innocent of her.

His snores stopped and she realized she should just let him be before that bitterness embraced her again. Getting up, her will steeling, she turned to return to the bed when suddenly a hand caught hers and she whirled her back around. Looking down in surprise at the open blue orbs that were watching her with an emotion she could not name but she felt twist deep in her gut, her pulse rocketed, and she knew he could feel it on his grip. His rough, large hand kept a hold of hers, his thumb caressing her soft skin as he looked up at her, just looked, his gaze telling her so many things yet nothing at all.

Her heart started pounding in her chest, so loudly she felt the blood rush in her ears, and he was just looking at her with that unfathomable expression. After minutes or seconds or hours, she didn't know, she finally tugged on her hand and he let it go, watching her retreat back into the bed and turn off the light quickly. Her hand tingled. It was on fire. And she was burning.

The silence thick with tension, thick with unspoken words, was making her heart throb faster than it should. She felt his gaze on her but she didn't look back. She didn't trust herself not to do something stupid if she did. And in that tension, she closed her eyes and imagined sheep jumping over fence, weird binary codes, anything to get herself to fall asleep and shake the blue, blue eyes from mind.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Looking around the well-dressed mafia crowd in her father's living room, Felicity entered the doors with Oliver, his arm draped casually around her waist but she knew it for what it was. To this crowd, it was his brand of protection, it was a neon sign that basically said 'Screw with her and Voldemort would look the better villain' or something like that. She wasn't entirely sure he had even watched Harry Potter, let alone read it. Which really was a crime. But well he was a criminal in a way. Oh boy, Britney Spears would have a field day with her. She had her criminal, so she sought out her Mama, humming the tune to the song, aware of Oliver's curious gaze on her.

"What?" she asked defensively. "Can't I sing?"

A small smile lifted his lips. "You have a nice voice," he complimented.

She raised her eyebrows at him suspiciously. "Then why the grin, Mr. Queen?"

He grinned flat out. "You are humming 'Mama, I'm in love with a criminal?'"

Her gaze flew to him and she flushed deep red. "Don't tell me you have a secret Britney fetish. That would be... umm."

He chuckled at her floundering for words and shook his head, saying, "Thea."

Ah. That explained it. Maybe he had seen Harry Potter after all. There was hope for him yet. Suddenly she blinked up at him. "I was just singing. I'm not in love with you. Well, obviously, you know that. I'm just clarifying that."

His smile dimmed as did his eyes, and he nodded. "I know that. Let's just enjoy the party."

Biting her lip, she quietly moved forward, things going back to being tensed, that small moment of teasing and flirting reprieve over. Things had been tensed between them since last night, well tenser than they had been before. After her success at calming him down and his knowledge that she had made that effort, the silence between them had been loaded. What had made it worse had been the fact that he had not been gone in the morning like he had been every other day of the week. Nope, he had stuck around, just hovering and making her heart flutter with his presence, his eyes glued to her the entire time yet not speaking a word. She hadn't known what to do with that intensity of his, and the fact that he had caught her red-handed last night, so she had escaped to her office where she had remained behind her computer for the rest of the day.

Come evening, Thea had shown up with the beautiful purple dress, with lace sleeves and uneven hem, that made her legs peek out in places and only exposed her neck in the deliberate messy updo of her hair. She had gotten ready, with minimal make-up and fuschia lips, and sauntered downstairs to find Oliver waiting for her, ready in a sharp black suit and a matching tie, radiating an aura of power from every muscle. He had swept in her attire with his eyes and just smiled a little in compliment, before taking her arm escorting her to the car, where Digg and Roy had already been waiting.

And here they were, half an hour later, entering the posh room of what had once been her house, their flirty moment of the week a thing of the past.

Felicity spotted her mother come to greet them, in a whirlwind of blonde hair and blue dress and tight hugs, her enthusiasm about seeing Oliver again obvious from the way she was literally bouncing on her toes. Seriously, the man did not need any more boost to his ego.

"It's so good to see you both!" she exclaimed, taking a hand of hers and one of Oliver's in both of hers. "And honey, you are glowing! Of course you are. You have such a handsome husband!"

Felicity wanted to bury her mortified face somewhere. Reading her body language perhaps, she felt Oliver give her waist a little reassuring squeeze, the gesture surprising soothing to her nerves.

"Donna! There is some problem in the..."

Felicity turned her head to see her father approaching, the smile on his face faltering as he saw Oliver beside her, and her husband's body tensing so minutely that she wouldn't have felt it had she not been pressed to him. Without thinking about it, she returned his earlier gesture and squeezed his waist back a little, feeling him relax slightly and exhale, but still on alert, as her mother left with a smile.

Her father moved to let her mother pass, giving them a curt nod. "Queen."

Oliver returned the nod. "Orlov."

The tension between the men was palpable and she knew she had to diffuse it because she was the common link, and whatever the reason was, this tension was due to her.

"Dad," Felicity spoke.

Her father removed his hateful eyes from Oliver and looked at her. "I believe you are happy in your marriage?"

Felicity felt her body tense, her anger spiking. "You do?" she challenged. "In a marriage that I had to enter to save your skin in the first place?"

Her father looked down, then up at her, his eyes turning angry too. "Why do you throw this in my face? It's done now!"

Felicity shifted to move forwards but Oliver's arm pinned her to the spot and she hit the roof. "What the fuck is wrong with you men? You trade your egos around my life and expect me not to remind you of the sacrifices I had to make? To accommodate you? I gave up my future and you want me to hug you and forget it?"

"Is this the way you talk to your father?" he counter attacked in his own defense.

"And is this the way a father behaves?" she shot back. His anger expanded, his own guilt fueling it, she knew and he took a step forward, his eyes so crazed that Felicity's heart faltered for a second. And at the exact moment, Oliver suddenly shifted her behind him, his huge body in front of her almost, just looking at her father, his body language saying everything he was not.

And she suddenly realized this was the world she had been born int, and she had had enough. Taking a step back, then another, she left the two men to their pissing contest and went right towards the inside of the house and walked angrily when suddenly she realized she was completely alone and she had a golden chance and not a lot of time. Taking the said chance, she quietly slipped in the corridor to her father's study, looking around carefully and finding no one. On alert, and proceeding with caution, she slid open the door, knowing the code to the lock, and slipping inside quickly, shutting it behind her. The room was dark but she had been here so many times that she knew where things were kept. Ignoring the computer, she headed to where her father stored his most important files, sliding open the cabinet, and looking straight for the files of the past three years. That was where she would maybe hopefully find something.

Rifling through the labels on the side, she went over names and accounts and everything, muttering quietly to herself, and came to a stop over a file marked "Oliver Queen". She paused and with slight hesitation, she opened the file, poring over it quickly.

  
**Name : Oliver Jonas Queen**

**Age : 28**

**Member : Captain. Associated with Bratva for 13 years.**

**Areas of expertise : Interrogation techniques. Intimidation tactics. Weapons. Hand to hand combat. No kill rule except in exceptional circumstances. Speaks fluent Russian. Has money from other businesses.**

**Physical Abilities : Expert marksman. Can use guns of all kinds, bows and arrows, knives, swords, batons, bo staffs without fail. Excellent combat skills.**

 

She read the file, seeing the man she knew, the power she knew he kept trapped in his muscles, look so bleak on the paper. Apart from a few other details, the file was mostly empty and not very enlightening. Realizing she was wasting precious time, she shoved it back in, disappointed and leafed through the other tags when suddenly her had stopped over a name. "Ilyich".

The name rang an alarming bell in her head. 'Ilyich' was the word she had heard that night in the lawn when Oliver and her would-be abductor had been conversing in Russian. It had been a name and not a word. Taking a deep breath, she opened the file and knowing she had to hurry, not really having the time to peruse it, she quickly unlocked her phone and snapped pictures of all the pages, to go over later.

She was on the last page when she suddenly heard voices coming from the corridor, heading towards the study. Heart thumping, she shoved the file inside the cabinet and shut it close, looking around for a place to hide. The knob on the door turned and just as she took a step towards the window, her only escape route that she'd have to manage in her heels, when suddenly a strange hand clamped on her mouth from behind, startling her, and pulling her back into the shadows with him. The man was not very big but he was strong and her pulled her back sharply, as she struggled and panicked, her heart running a mile a minute, as he pulled her back with him into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine
> 
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	12. Explosions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyya, peeps!
> 
> Thank you everyone for your spectacular response to the story!  
> I'm back with another chapter, as promised. #PhoenixTuesdays :)
> 
> Stuff happens, obviously. And as the title says, explosions ;)
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> Happy reading!!!

"Shh. Felicity. I won't hurt you."

Felicity's spine stiffened at the whispered voice, and she realized, now that she was pressed more into the man as he hid them in the small alcove beside the book shelves, that he was tall and she had been wrong. What the hell was he doing here?

She struggled against the hand and it finally left her mouth. She turned around and looked incredulously at Ray Palmer, of all the people. What was he doing lurking in a dark corner of her father's office? And what was it with men and lurking and her? Before she could voice the sentiment, the door to the study closed behind the men who had entered and she quietened down, giving Palmer a scowl to keep himself quiet. He nodded in understanding and they stood close together, which made her really uncomfortable but she had no choice now did she? How did she manage to get herself into situations like these?

"It did not get any better even after you interfered." 

Felicity heard her father's angry voice come very loudly from over his desk. She held her breath, not knowing what was going on or if she should even be here, eavesdropping. Her previous experience in eavesdropping had kind of soured her to the entire thing. No point going there.

"Viktor," she heard Anatoly speak softly, reprimanding her father but he was cut off by him and a harsh "No."

"You made your terrible choices all on your own, Orlov. Don't blame them on me."

Oliver. His voice, quiet and hard was unlike her father's high pitch. She swallowed. The two had apparently taken their testosterone match inside. And they were having a meeting about whatever deal they had made, about her. Oh google. Ray tried to peek out over to them but she glared at him, stopping him in his tracks. She wasn't going to let this moron ruin her chances of finally finding out what the hell was going on.

"My terrible choices?" her father's voice moved over the desk, most likely facing Oliver now. "They happened because of you."

Oliver's lethal voice came from the same spot. He was standing his ground. "I was going to expose you years ago but I couldn't."

Felicity blinked in surprise, not understanding why Oliver had out and out told her father that he had been planning to overthrow him. Didn't he care for his neck or something? He continued and she diverted her mind back on the topic. "I have the evidence now and I can expose you for who you are now. But I won't. Because Felicity deserves better."

"Don't you dare drag my daughter into this!" Her father's loud bellow made her flinch. She had never heard him so angry. 

Oliver's voice was so hard this time she didn't know how her father didn't crumple. "You did that all on your own, Orlov. I'm the one protecting her."

Her father sighed loudly while Anatoly intervened. "What happened? She was fine when I met her last week for lunch."

"And she is still fine," Oliver reassured Anatoly in a softer tone. "She will be as long as I am there."

"Oliver," Anatoly began hesitantly. "Why did you marry Felicity? You knew her before, no?"

Oliver remained silent for a few minutes and she wished so much to just see the looks being exchanged. After seconds, her father spoke again. "Have you told her?"

Oliver's tone was hard again. Well, well. No love lost between the father and son-in-law, she supposed. "Do not think for a second that it is for you."

"Then why?"

"For her. I promised to protect her and I will. In every way." The conviction in his voice made her heart stutter but her mind was frustrated. Why did men have to be so dang cryptic? Couldn't they just hold cards and talk like 'Hey, this and this is what we are hiding from Felicity' so at least she would know!

Her father spoke in his loud tone again. "And you are doing a good job of that, aren't you, Queen? I heard she was already attacked. Your security..."

"Is my business." Oliver cut him off. 

"Not when it comes to my daughter," her father retorted sharply. 

Oliver's voice came closer from where she stood. He had moved. "Quite a realization. Where was it a year ago?"

Before her father could respond, Oliver's hard voice came loudly for the first time. "She is now my wife. Don't think for one second that I will have you putting any sort of a claim on her, especially after knowing the kind of father you are."

"How dare..."

Oliver cut him off once more, his voice dropping decibels and making her shiver. He was in his Dangerous mode. "And one more thing, Orlov. If you ever demean her or take a step towards her like you did outside, and if I even get to know about it from anyone else, you'll have _me_ to deal with."

Felicity's arms erupted in small goosebumps at the threat and his voice. Her husband was a very, very dangerous man. She swallowed as her father spoke again. "She is my daughter. I can do whatever I please."

Oliver's voice moved again from the spot, his drawl hard. "That's where you are wrong, Orlov. She is now my wife. _Mine._ You'd do well to remember that."

Her throat was dry and she was angry at the men treating her like a possession, but she couldn't really blame Oliver for continuing that. This was the language her father understood, this was the way this world operated and Oliver was making sure he got his point across. After living with him for whatever small amount of time, she knew, even if she outright denied it and did not trust him, that he did respect her for whatever motivations he had. His motivations she had no idea about.

Ray started to peek out again and she grit her teeth in annoyance, pulling him back into the shadow by the sleeve but not before a small huff left him. She froze, not knowing exactly how loud he had been, and holding her breath as her father continued to speak something to Anatoly, most likely not having heard the sound. Just as she was relaxing back, a large shadow fell over her and she looked up with wide eyes at Oliver, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. He looked at her incredulously, a slight anxiousness in his face that transformed to white hot rage as soon as he saw Ray beside her. She saw him clench his fists and breath in through his mouth, before he turned back towards the other men and spoke softly, masking his anger so well that she never would have thought him angry had she not known.

"Anatoly, would you mind giving me the room for some time?"

She noticed how he addressed Anatoly, knowing he was a much more rational man where he was concerned. There were some sounds of protest from her father, who she now knew was not as great a man as she thought apparently, and then sounds of shuffling feet before the door closed, silence descending upon the room. Her breath coming slowly, she waited for something to happen, now that they were alone, when Oliver came to the spot, pulling Ray out and away from her by the collar. She clapped a hand to her mouth, watching as her husband pressed the man into the wall, twisting an arm behind his back and pressing into his throat by a forearm.

"What the fuck were you doing here?" he demanded in a low, lethal voice.

Ray blinked wide, his face white. "I was just, I..."

Oliver pressed upon the arm a little and Ray shrieked, sweat marring his brows, and spoke. "I just followed her through the window. I knew I wouldn't be able to talk to her alone and I had to tell her something." He looked straight at her and spoke. "Queen blackmailed your father into getting you two married. It's not a love connection like you think it is."

Oliver grabbed his chin roughly and she took a step forward, putting a hand on his arm, knowing he was about to explode. "Oliver?"

His arm tensed where she touched him, but he didn't let go of Ray, looking at him and speaking in his low, threatening voice. "Now, you listen to me, and listen carefully, Palmer. You don't meddle into business that doesn't concern you or you get killed, and I'm not talking about me. But, if I see you anywhere near my wife without good reason, without a distance of ten feet between you, I will make you beg for death. So, next time you want to play hero, remember that I am the bad guy you're dealing with."

With that Oliver took a solid step back, and Ray straightened, his too intense eyes wild. "You are crazy if you think she'll ever love you for all that. She needs someone gentle and..."

Oliver almost moved again and Felicity quickly put both arms around his elbow, tugging at him, knowing her strength was fruitless against his but knowing she had to stop him from going too far. "Oliver. Hey. Stop."

Oliver stopped, barely, stilling his entire body but not sparing her a glance. Finally knowing he would stay put and not punch any men or walls, she turned to Palmer and felt her anger rise at him. "You don't know a thing about me, Ray, and you don't know a thing about what I would or wouldn't feel for anybody. So, don't make assumptions about me or my marriage."

Ray shook his head in disbelief and turned away, leaving the room with a resounding slamming of the door, leaving the two of them alone in the study, alone, for the first time in a week, both of them tensed and about to explode.

Oliver took a few steps away from her, pinching the bridge of his nose, his body vibrating with the need to move. "What were you doing here?"

She could have played games, but she was done and pissed too. "I came here to look for whatever evidence you have."

His body tensed even more than it had before, and his blue eyes drilled into hers. "There is nothing here."

Well, that might be true but she was going to bluff her way through it. Crossing her arms over her chest, she raised her eyebrows at him. "Really? So, I assume that 'Ilyich' doesn't mean anything then?" 

It was fascinating to see that stillness seep into him, his entire body freezing as his eyes remained blank and locked on hers. His silence was more than enough answer. Felling triumphant, she started to walk past him, speaking. "Well, now I have something to work with. So I'll just go around asking about Ilyich and..."

His hand gripped her elbow and whirled her around, pinning her back into the wall, looming over her. But it felt more like he was shielding her than caging her in and she had no idea why. 

His hard voice ground out, his anger pulsating through his body evidently, and her anger matching his. "You will not do that, god help me."

She smirked deliberately, needling him. "Watch me."

"You do not talk to anyone, _anyone_ , about Ilyich. You don't utter that name ever again, do you get me?" His voice was hard, and slightly afraid. 

Felicity quirked her eyebrows. "Yes, I do get you." She saw his relax but she wasn't done. "But I don't care. You don't tell me whatever so I told you I'll find out on my own. And isn't it better if I know? What if it wasn't Ray here tonight but some bad guy? What if you can't save me because i am too clueless as to what's happening? So no, Oliver, I am not going to stop any time soon till you talk."

Oliver's hand came to grip the back of her head, tilting her head back as he looked deep into her eyes, his own searching for answers, for something on her face. His expression was too intense, like last night when he had caught her chasing away his nightmare. He was speaking a million things with his gaze and not saying anything at all. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her face with every exhale, smell in his woodsy, musky scent swirling all around her, feel the scrape of his fabrics against her own body. Heart pounding in her chest, she looked up at him earnestly, asking him now, whispering softly. "Tell me, Oliver."

She raised a hand to his cheek, brushing her palm against his scruff, and watched his eyes flutter close at her gesture. Suddenly, watching him struggle against himself, something she understood all too well, a piece fell into place.

"Are you not telling me because you think I will hate you?" she asked him softly, brushing his jaw with her thumb.

 

Oliver leaned into her touch, keeping his eyes closed. "I don't want to ruin your relationship with your father, Felicity."

She pressed at his jaw and tilted his face so that he opened his eyes and looked back at her with his deep blue orbs. "That's not what I asked Oliver."

One of his hands came to rest on her waist, squeezing it softly as he pressed his forehead into hers. "Yes."

The vulnerability in his voice stunned her and made her heart ache. She had told him time and again that she hated him, and he had no other reason to believe otherwise. Biting her lip, she spoke again, softly. "I won't hate you for telling me whatever ugly truth, Oliver. I won't."

His grip on her hair tightened slightly, but not painfully, and he looked down at her, his head so close yet so far. "Felicity..."

Her nerves were already on fire and she was so tired of fighting herself, of fighting this, living everyday with this constant tension, and she was sick and done and frazzled and all things impatient. Everything else be damned. She still wanted him and she was going to have him, on her terms.

She moved her hand into his hair, gripping the back of his skull tightly, watching his eyes widen in surprise as she lifted on her toes and finally, after ages of wanting and needing, closed the gap between their mouths. A small gasp escaped his lips, and she could literally feel his surprise in the way he stood completely frozen, and a smile escaped her before she could stop it. The big dummy, he had no idea what hit him. With a sudden burst of courage at his stunned disbelief, she swiped his lips with her tongue, taking the lower one in between her teeth and tugging on it, nibbling on it, feeling so so relieved at finally feeling him like this in so long. He let her but after a second, he suddenly pulled back, looking at her and inhaled heavily.

"We shouldn't do this, Felicity," he whispered in the space between their mouths. "You already have far too many regrets concerning me. We shouldn't make this one of them. Not now. Not after everything else."

She closed her eyes for a second as her anger returned full force. Her blood spiked at his words and she gripped his hair tighter, making him look at her. "You know what I do regret, Oliver? I regret you men making my decisions for me, every bloody time."

With a huff, she pushed him away and took two steps out, putting distance between them. "You think you are protecting my life, my virtue, my god-knows-what. But you know what, Oliver? I don't care. I'm so so done with your shit."

Oliver shifted his stance and ran a hand through his head. "Look, Felicity."

"No, you look, Oliver," she was almost yelling at him now, her breathing heavy. "I wouldn't have regretted kissing you, but now, now I do because of the way you behaved. I am my own woman and this is my body and god help me, if I want to kiss someone, I can without having the entire morality compass thrust upon me. I think I'll go find Ray. At least I know he won't refuse my advances."

With that taunt, she walked swiftly towards the door and went out, not looking back at him once. Her heels beat furiously against the floor, in match with her temper. She was almost at the end of the corridor when he whirled her around again, caging her again against the wall, the same wall that he had ravished her over the first time that they had met, and it all became too much for her- all those years, the secrets, the betrayal, the desire, the marriage, the need, the emotions, the everything.

With a cry, she pushed at him and he didn't budge an inch, infuriating her more. She pushed again and again and again and before she knew it, she was lashing out at him, hitting his rock hard chest repeatedly, plummeting them with her small fists, pushing and scratching at him and taking it all out, all the pain and the anger and the frustration of years coming out and pouring out in spades. He just stood still against her wrath, letting her have that release that she so badly needed and that made her even angrier, the fact that he knew her well enough to let her have it. 

For minutes she just hit and hit him, till her hands were throbbing and she was panting, her eyes watering and she hated herself and hated him for making her feel like this. Once her hysteria was over, she looked at his tie, not wanting to deal with him. With firm hands, he pulled her head up but before he could say anything, Felicity heard Roy's voice drift across the space. 

"Ah, there you are. I've been looking everywhere...."

His voice trailed off as he saw the intimate way she and Oliver were standing. With her flushed skin and her hair escaping from it's knot, it would look like she had been thoroughly ravished to a complete bystander. Her cheeks flamed even more as Oliver spoke to Roy without taking his eyes of hers. "We'll be back at the party in a few minutes."

His voice brooked no argument and she heard Roy shuffle away. Gritting her trembling jaw, she wiped away the one errant tear that had leaked and pushed at him again. "Let me go, Oliver."

He did, and she felt a slight wave of disappointment course through her at his quick acquiescence. And that made her angry again. Without a word, she breathed a few times through her mouth and cracked her neck, before fixing her hair and walking back to the party like nothing had happened. Oliver followed just on her heels, and they emerged in the dining hall, the table already filled with guests taking their places. She followed and took a seat beside Anatoly, aware of Oliver sitting down beside her.

This dinner, the setting reminded her too much of the one time they had almost played footsie under the table. The house and the decor were still the same, the setting was the same, but they weren't and she knew it. And now because she didn't know how to keep her hormones under control, she was floundering. This was exactly what had gotten her in trouble. And she needed to learn from her mistakes.

Nodding to herself, she listened to the conversation, making little comments here and there, smiling at all the appropriate places, aware the entire time of the way her thigh pressed against his, and the evil eyes she was getting from Ray Palmer. She sighed and dug her fork in, when suddenly, the hair on the nape of her neck tingled and she became aware of someone watching her. Well, the house was full of people who gave her glances once in every while, but this was different. This felt different. Surreptitiously picking up her glass of wine, she leaned back in her seat and looked around coyly, trying to discern who was watching her. The guests on the table were all involved in their own conversations, and Oliver was talking to some man on the other side of the table about some business, when she felt that shiver again. 

Her eyes scanned the people milling about or standing guard, the staff coming and going, when she finally spotted a man in a bodyguard suit looking right at her. She quickly removed her gaze, her instincts screaming at her to catch this man, and looked at Roy and Diggle, who were talking to each other but not looking at her. Not knowing how to warn them without catching attention, she inhaled and pressed her thigh hard in Oliver's. She felt him stop talking and feel him turn when she kicked her thigh into his again, and he stopped mid turn, understanding whatever she was saying. Taking a hold of his glass, he took a hold of her hand with his free one, rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand, not in the way he did when he soothed her, but differently. Without looking at him, she focused on what he was doing, and made out the alphabets he was etching on her skin with his thumb.

T. E. L. L.  M. E.

A wave of intense relief washed over her, along with something she couldn't name. How did this man understand her like no one ever could? How could he read her body, her breaths, like a master?

Shaking off the questions and focusing on the task at hand, she opened his palm and spread it in a gesture that would just look flirty and loving to anybody else, and started writing on his palm, making it seem like she was tracing the lines on his big hand.

G. U. A. R. D.  N. E. A. R.  D. O. O. R.

Oliver suddenly bent forward, leaning into her neck, and she knew he was checking the space around the door out as inconspicuously as he could. She felt him stiffen slightly and he pulled back, taking his phone out and typing something quickly on his phone to Diggle. She swerved her gaze to him, and saw Digg check his message and move in on the guy who had been looking, taking him outside by the arm, with Roy on his heels.

Her eyes wide, she looked back at Oliver and opened her mouth to speak but he shook his head just once. This was not the time or the place. Sighing, she leaned back and focused on just getting through the night.

 

                                                                               ------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

By the time they got back home, it was late and Thea and the staff had already gone to bed. The entire evening had been one roller coaster after another and she felt emotionally exhausted and all she wanted to do was change into her fluffy koala bear pajamas and climb into bed and sleep the week off. But of course that wasn't going to happen. Well, it would but it would be delayed. Because she was married to a guy who ignored her for a week when he pleased and talked to her when he pleased. Yeah, well, he could please his tight ass for all she cared. 

She walked into the bedroom and toed off her heels, the balls of her feet dancing in happiness and gratitude at being off the death trap, and switched on the lights, aware of him entering the room behind her. She opened her cupboard, walking around barefoot, and found her clothes, turning to leave when she stopped, gaping at her hot asshole of a husband as he undressed. His jacket was already off, and he roughly removed his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off him, throwing it in the laundry basket at the corner of the room. His scars and muscles shone in the light, tensed with the need to move that she could read well in him by now. He had been on edge since they had apprehended the creep who had been looking at her and she didn't know where he was, but she knew Oliver would be going down to talk to Digg. 

She took a step towards the bathroom and his eyes swung to her, pinning her on the spot with the heat she saw blazing in them. She stood there, her breath hitched, watching him stride towards her with a ferocity in his face she hadn't seen in the entire time she had known him, and she stood rooted to the spot. He stepped right into her personal space, one hand going to her waist and pulling her into his warm body, the other gripping the back of her skull and tilting her head back. And before she could blink, his mouth was on hers and this time, the gasp left her. Taking the opportunity, he plunged into her mouth, tasting her, tilting her head, changing the angle. The clothes in her hands floated to the ground as her arms rose of their own accord and wound themselves around his neck, pulling him closer, relishing the taste, the feel, the assault of him of her senses, rising on her toes and curving herself into him. He growled at her eagerness, and sipped and drank and pillaged and completely took her mouth like a starved man tasting elixir for the first time. It wasn't like the focused, sophisticated kisses of their older days. No. This was uncoordinated and sloppy and her skin chafed from his scruff but it was so, so real and so, so hot. 

Her blood was pounding in her ears, her senses overwhelmed by him, by the fact that he was the only man who had ever been able to make her feel so much, no matter how much she denied it. He bit at her lips and then plunged back in again, his tongue dueling with hers before softly dancing around hers, teasing, tasting. He pulled back and she followed, not ready to let go yet, not after having this after so long, and he gave in again, and they stood in the middle of the room, kissing like two long lost lovers who had finally found their way back to each other. But they weren't and he paused, pecking her swollen mouth with his, pressing small kisses to her nose and her cheeks and her head before pulling back to look at her with an intensity only he could achieve.

She blinked up at him rapidly, clearing the haze of lust from her mind, when he spoke softly. "Thank you, for trusting me tonight at the dinner. And I'm sorry. I'm trying Felicity, to not make any decision for you."

"Yet you won't tell me anything," she murmured back, still wrapped around him, feeling his warm skin against her hands and his soft hair against her palms. 

His sigh was wrenched deep from inside him and she could see how much he was struggling with it. While it made her feel better, it didn't solve anything. She opened her mouth to speak again, but his hands tilted her face to his and he spoke, "I kissed you because I need you to know that the last thing I want to do is refuse your advances." His thumb ran over her lower lip and her heart thumped loudly in her chest, her breathing becoming more erratic. 

He continued. "I want you so much I ache, Felicity. I want you so much I hurt. I hurt."

The conviction, the earnestness in his voice made her heart stutter and a pang went through her. But he was not done. "I want to kiss you and worship you and show you... everything every moment that I breathe. But I can't. Because I have not earned any of it. And I will, even if it's the last thing I do."

He pecked her lips on more time before taking a few steps away from her, disentangling himself from her. "This kiss was to tell you that I want you. I never stopped and I won't. This kiss was in response to yours, to erase any doubts you have from your mind. But I need you to know that I will not make any advances because I know you don't  believe me, but I do respect you. You need to not regret anything, солнешко, and for that, you have to make up your mind. Take as much time as you like. But when you come to me, do it without regrets."

With a small shake of his head, he picked up a t-shirt from his drawer, pulling it over his head and walking out of the room.

Felicity stood at the exact same spot, her heart still thundering, her chest still heaving, her lips still swollen, her cheeks still warm as his words played in her mind on repeat. She didn't know if he was telling the truth or manipulating her or outright lying. Her head and her heart were back at war. But what scared her was how much she wanted to believe him for the first time, in so long. And that was very, very, very bad news.

Believing Oliver Queen might just happen to be the last nail in her coffin yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine
> 
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	13. Raging Storms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyya, peeps!
> 
> Thank you everyone for your super awesome response to the last chapter. Seriously, I'm floored!  
> I'm back with another chapter, as promised. #PhoenixFridays :)
> 
> Stuff happens, obviously. One step forward. This is a comparatively lighter one. ;)
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Felicity looked down at her vibrating phone to see Thea's smiling face look back at her. Smiling automatically, she raised a small hand to the two middle aged men seated before her, the bill for their lunch paid. "Excuse me for just one moment."

The two men smiled back and nodded and Felicity got up from the table at the restaurant, picking up the call. "Yes, Thea?"

"Hey, you still at The Plaza?" Thea's voice chirped across the line. 

"Yup," Felicity replied, popping the 'p' at the end.

"Great," Thea replied happily. "I'm coming over. We can hang out after you are done with your meeting. Is that cool?"

Felicity smiled and nodded. "Very cool. I'll be done in a few minutes."

"See you then!"

Cutting the call, Felicity shook her head and headed back to the table where men, her clients, waited for her. Her eyes briefly drifted to Roy, who sat a few tables away, at her insistence. If he had his way, he would be standing within two feet of her with a neon sign around his neck that said 'I AM HER BODYGUARD'. Yes, in caps. And the only way she would have let him sit in on a meeting was if he sat down, discreetly, a few tables away. Which he had agreed to after a big stare down and a sigh. And a grumble too.

Grumbly Roy was adorable though. She bit back a grin and focused back on the clients. The clients. Well, they represented a small, rising cyber security company that specialized in cracking codes. But they had been accosted recently with a lot of security issues and hence they wanted her to design their security, so they could protect their clients. As the company was credible (she had researched before the meeting like she did with all her clients) she had requested they meet at a public place for a business lunch to discuss their deal. Though she had her own office at home, she did not want to conduct one-on-one meetings there. Hence, here she sat in a moderately priced restaurant in The Plaza, which was actually a plaza, obviously, located centrally in the city and a popular place for food and shopping, the sky cloudy and the area windy. It seemed like it would rain tonight.

Her meeting was almost finished. She picked up the thumb drive with all the details regarding what she needed from them. (Though she didn't say she could hack, well, _look_ for whatever information she needed herself. That generally didn't sit well with the clients.)

She liked these clients, the Summer brothers. They were kind men who clearly respected her work and were very polite. She liked such clients.

Taking the drive, she got up again, shaking their hands one by one, nodding. "I'll have the work done in three days."

She saw the older Mr. Summers' eyes widen. "Only three days?"

She smiled. "More than enough time. I'll give you a call then?"

Nodding, still slight surprise on their faces, they left. Felicity nodded to Roy and tilted her head to the door, asking him to follow her.

He got up swiftly and they exited the restaurant.

"We heading home?" he asked quietly, his manner alert.

Felicity bit back a grin, watching him in her periphery. "Not yet. Thea is coming here."

His step faltered just once. A chuckle escaped her as he scowled. "Felicity..."

"What?" she raised her hands in defense. "Don't blame me for pulling your leg when you are literally offering it up on a platter."

He sighed heavily. Felicity smiled. "Have you told her about your very obvious heart eyes?"

Startled, he looked up. "I don't have "heart eyes"."

"Hmm. Whatever you say," Felicity shrugged nonchalantly, knowing it would grate him. He sighed again. "She's the boss' sister, Felicity."

Felicity stopped in her tracks, taking a hold of his arms, looking at him seriously. He needed to understand this. "Roy, you are my friend, first and foremost. You protect me because you want to. And you are a great guy. Thea is my sister-in-law but she is my friend too and she deserves a great guy. So, if you want to ask her out, go ahead and don't think for one second about anything else."

"But Oliver..."

She interrupted him. "Trusts you. If he trusts you with me, he trusts you implicitly." Yes, she knew that now and no, she was not denying that anymore. As she said, Oliver had some crazy obsession about her safety. She shook her head and continued. "But he will punch you, because Thea is his baby sister. And it wouldn't matter if it's you or Tom Cruise, punched you shall get. He will be in his big brother mode. So, don't let that deter you."

Roy looked at her deeply, squeezing back her arm. "Thanks."

She smiled at his heartfelt word then bumped him with her shoulder, grinning. "So you admit to heart eyes. Want to talk about it?"

"Want to talk about yours?" he countered back, a lopsided smile on his face. Yeah, she'd talk about it when there would be cute flying pigs with their springy tails. Pig's tails were so funny. 

Shaking her head, she punched Roy on the arm. "Stop killing my happy buzz."

Chuckling, Roy shook his head and let her walk around the plaza, looking at stores, passing time till Thea got there. But her head was still buzzing with Roy's implied question. Oliver. Almost a week ago, he had strode up to her and kissed the bejesus out of her, a kiss that still made her toes curl in her heels just thinking about it, dropped the heavy words and bombs on her before leaving to wherever. And she had stood in the room in stunned silence for god knows how long, her brain short-circuited, words escaping her for the first time.

But alas, she had recovered and gone to bed and despite of sleep being one evasive bitch that night, she had slept. She had thought then that he would go back to keeping his distance and avoiding her but he had surprised her yet again. He had been distant, but the warm distant and not the cold distant and she didn't even know what that meant exactly. What she meant was that he had slept in the room every night, his shirtless body always making her flash back to The Kiss. Yes. It warranted capitalization. And she was pretty sure he was using psychological torture to break her, flaunting his muscles left, right and center in her face. In fact, she had even gone down to the basement once to look for Digg and found Oliver on the Ladder of Lust, working his way up, sweating and gleaming and glistening and defying gravity. And after watching entranced for a few minutes, she had turned and high-tailed it out of there before she did something stupid. She hadn't thought he had seen her, but that night he had been particularly, well, flashy, in stripping his t-shirt while she pretended to work on her tablet, and she knew in her bones he had seen her panting and he was teasing her. Closing her eyes, she had thrown the tablet side and slumped down the bed, removing that image from her head.

Well, her husband was hot as hell and she was sweating now. The sexual tension between them had always been spectacular. It was the emotional trust she was short on but working on.  

After that night, she had spent two days translating all the Russian from the pictures she had taken of the documents in her father's file of Ilyich. And she had been sorely disappointed, because like with Oliver's file, the only thing she knew about Ilyich was that he was a man and he was dangerous and the rest of it had been numbers and codes that she just did not understand. She had searched his name in all the databases she could, and hit a dead end every time and that had frustrated her more than anything. Once her frustration had calmed down, she had thought about it logically and realized that Ilyich was probably only a name the brotherhood knew him by. His official name must be something else.

So, changing her focus, she had tried to work around it, to no avail. Finally, last night, she had gone to Roy, knowing he had rock solid connections underground, and told him that she wanted to know the real name of the man who went by 'Ilyich'. She had also sworn him to strict confidence, to which he had frowned, and told him that Oliver especially had to know nothing about this. He had considered her but probably knowing how tenacious she was and more likely to get herself killed if she went to other people, he had nodded and left.

She turned to Roy now, about to ask him if he had any information at all, when her eyes landed on a table inside a restaurant, occupied by her husband and a woman. A woman who was brunette, filled in all the right places from what she could see, tall too apparently, and absolutely _gorgeous._ A woman who was leaning over the table showing her husband her ample cleavage. A woman whose body language screamed flirtatious even across the distance. A woman who had absolutely no right to touch her husband on his arm. Only she touched him there. 

She stopped in her tracks, staring at them, talking, and her blood boiled. A rage she had never felt before consumed her and for the first time in her life, she knew what real jealousy felt like. It burned. From the inside out. It made her want to claim him. It made her want to snatch the woman's arms away. And she knew how Oliver felt, if he did feel this, when he saw her with Ray. He burned too, just like she was.

Clenching her hands into fists, she marched towards the door before she even knew what she was doing. She saw Digg shake his head at her from his position outside but she was not caring of anything or anyone except the fire in her veins. She saw Oliver's head lift as he turned towards her loud footsteps, surprise washing over his face before he reined in his expression. Yeah. She bet he was surprised, the ass.

She grit her teeth and pasted a fake smile on her face. "Oliver. What a surprise to see you here."

Oliver stood up as did the woman, narrowing his eyes but waving a hand towards the woman. "Felicity. This is Sonya. And Sonya, this is..."

Felicity extended her hand, interrupting him before he could complete. "His wife. Felicity Smoak-Queen."

She was correct about the woman being gorgeous and tall. Sonya. She hated her already.

Sonya's eyes narrowed at Felicity, measuring her up and down, Felicity did the same, taking in her red cutout dress and gorgeous curls, and Felicity straightened her spine, glad to have worn her pretty sky blue dress with the full skirt that made her legs look longer in the heels, watching back with equally narrowed eyes. The woman spoke. "I am an old family friend of Oliver's. Sonya Rochev."

Felicity blinked. "As in Isabel Rochev?"

"She's a distant cousin and partner."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, before the woman looked away and she knew that the woman understood her warning. Felicity nodded and put a deliberate hand on Oliver's arm, looking at the woman, her message extremely clear. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Sonya. I'll let you two continue with your meeting." 

Without another word, and tamping down the instincts that screamed for her to pull him down by the collar and plant one on his mouth but knowing her message had been effective, she turned on her heel and walked out, her body tight with tension. 

She didn't stop but kept walking, aware of Roy following on her heels silently, aware of Digg looking at her in amusement, aware of Oliver's eyes glued to her retreating back. Well, that was all he would get from her from now on. 

"Felicity..."

"Not one word, Roy," she spoke through grit teeth, not able to understand her own turmoil, not able to control this rage inside her. She was shaking.

"I was saying Thea is here."

Felicity turned her head to Roy, who looked at her with nothing but understanding and friendship. She inhaled deeply and exhaled through her mouth, looking over to Thea making her way across to them with a smile. Seeing her smiling face, she put her emotions on the back-burner, intending to have a good time with her for now, and smiled back.

 

                                                            ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was the first time since coming here that Felicity was the one not in their room by this hour. It was already midnight, and usually she was already in bed, and if anyone came in late, it was him. Not tonight. 

Since returning with Thea, after watching a movie and their early dinner and having a genuinely gala time teasing the two young love birds, she had ensconced herself in her office, working on the security project for Mr. Summers to keep her mind off things. She had mostly succeeded, except when the image of the woman and Oliver flashed through her mind and that fire started raging all over again and she had to tamp it down all over again. 

She had closed herself in her office because she did not want to see him, or talk to him, or listen to anything right now. She had never experienced this and she was scared of what she would do if she saw him without people around. So, that's what she planned to do. She would sleep on the couch in the office tonight, since a guard was outside the door anyways, and sleep off this burn and tomorrow, she would be fine. Yup.

Nodding to herself, she shut off her laptop, removed her glasses and went to the big windows, leaning against it and watching the thunder roll in the sky. The moon was no where to be seen and electricity cackled behind the thick clouds, the sound thunderous and scary, bathing the entire lawns and trees in white for a split second before fading. Well, nature was going to have a rough night too it seemed.

She didn't know how long she stood, just staring at the sky, contemplating her own emotions when a soft knock rose her from her musings. She closed her eyes and the knock came again. Knowing who it was, she didn't say anything but continued looking at the clouds that had started pouring now, the cool droplets grazing her face as the wind roared. 

"Felicity?"

She stayed silent, hearing the door shut and him cross the distance between them.

"I was waiting for you to come up."

His voice came from just behind her, and she crossed her arms over her chest, her fingers gripping her arms. She shrugged. "I was working."

"солнешко."

The fire burned at his term of endearment and she knew she would have to get it out. No beating around the bush. "Are you cheating on me, Oliver?"

There was a stunned silence following her words and she resisted the urge to see his face, to gauge his expression. Suddenly, strong hands were gripping her arms and whirling her to face him, a surprised breath escaping her before she could stop it.

"I didn't hear what I think I did, did I?" He leaned down to look at her, his eyes intense and piercing.

"Yes you did," Felicity replied curtly.

His eyes narrowed. "Where is this coming from?"

She scoffed, shaking off his hands, and taking a few steps away. "Like you don't know."

"I must admit," she heard his slightly amused voice speak, "jealousy becomes you."

The anger inside her burned at his amusement. She turned around, affronted, scowling at the soft smile pulling his lips. "Excuse me?"

A small dimple peeked on his face, looking at her as he shrugged. "It is true. No shame in admitting that."

"I am not jealous, Oliver," she took angry steps towards him, poking his chest with her finger repeatedly. "I just don't want to become that woman that her husband cheated upon. Jealousy is your thing."

Their gazes held, the amusement leaving his face, the tension escalating, like static crackling between them and Oliver spoke again, softly. "I am a jealous man, Felicity." His hand brushed a strand of her hair back, his eyes heated. "I want to claim you so badly it burns me. Every time I see you with any other man, I feel like an animal. So, yes, jealousy is _my_ thing. You know why? Because you are mine too."  

Her heart stuttered but she was too gone in her anger to care. "She is a beautiful woman," she said through grit teeth.

Oliver tilted his head at her. "Yes, she is. So?"

She shrugged. 

Oliver pinched his nose, eyes narrowed, his mouth curling slightly at her. "She is just an old family friend, Felicity. I met her to discuss Bratva business that she operates with Isabel."

Felicity scoffed again. "Sure looked like you were discussing business from where I stood, Oliver."

He took a step and Felicity raised her hand, stopping him, her voice cold, nothing like the burn inside her. "I don't care if you are sleeping around with a women. Hell, I don't care if you have a harem of women. But you need to back off from me..."

He was in her personal space faster than she could blink, gripping her arms again, and tilting her head, his gaze burning her and his voice firm. "I have _never_ cheated on you, Felicity, and I never will. I know my reputation says other wise but that reputation was before you."

She grit her teeth, shaking her head. "Look, I know men have needs and I..."

"Stop right there," his hard voice interrupted before she could finish, his blue eyes glinting and steely. "I'll say this once and you need to understand this. The only woman who can satisfy my needs is right in front of me. You are so beautiful, Felicity, inside and out, and you are everything I want. I haven't wanted any other woman since I met you and I am not, will not, cheat on you. Because I don't want to and you deserve that."

Her heart was pounding in her chest, the fire inside her veins changing, transforming, to something else, consuming her slowly down to her bones. His blue eyes pinned her, the honesty in them making her breath short. He continued. "I deal with a lot of women, and I will admit that a lot of them flirt with me, but I don't and you have to know that. All of them know I am a committed man who comes home to you."

Her eyes closed and a breath left her. She hadn't realized how much she had needed to hear this. She hadn't realized how much she had needed to believe this. She hadn't realized how much she had needed to know, how much she had already come to care. Her jaw trembled and his hands came up to cup her face, steadying in their grip and he pressed his forehead to hers. "I am _yours_ , Felicity. Only yours. All of me."

Her heart thumped wildly at the words, her hands fisting in his t-shirt on their own accord, pulling him closer. A small tear slid down her cheek, already wet from the rain.

"I won't be able to take it again, Oliver," she whispered, finally being honest with him, with herself, letting out her biggest fear, not knowing why she was telling him this. "Another betrayal..."

He sipped at her tear softly, like he did once in his office, his soft, slightly chapped lips brushing over her cheek. "Never again, Felicity." 

His words were whispered into her skin, warming her somewhere deep inside that had been left cold. 

Arms coming around him, she pulled him to her, hugging him tight, feeling his own arms tighten around her. His hugs were addictive. They stood like that, with only the sound of their breathing and the sound of the thunder rolling outside, rain splashing on the ground. After a few minutes, when her breathing had calmed, the fire only a soft glow inside her, she pulled back, looking down at the carpet, her face flushing.

God, she felt so stupid being attacked by that jealousy.

"You are the least stupid person I know," his voice reassured her, slightly amused, and she flushed further, knowing she had said it out loud.

After a few seconds of silence, his soft voice came to her. "Come back to the room, Felicity."

She blinked up at him, at his open face, and nodded. "Okay."

With a small smile, he extended his hand to her, and after a slight hesitation, she accepted. Linking their fingers together, he pulled her with him to the door, switching the lights off and nodding to the guard. They walked slowly back to their room, holding hands, her heart beating faster than it should. 

They reached their room in a comfortable silence and Felicity closed the door, going towards the bathroom, and shutting the door, leaning against it. Taking a few deep breaths, she looked at the mirror, at her flushed face and a smile escaped him, remembering the last few minutes. Huffing out, she quickly brushed her teeth, taking a quick bath and went out, dressed for the night, and headed for the bed. She stopped beside the bed, as Oliver got up from the couch, his eyes on hers and stripped off his t-shirt.

 _S_ _eriously?_ He couldn't have done that while she was taking a shower?

Narrowing her eyes in challenge, having had enough of this strip tease for a week, she quickly put her hands under her top, flicking off her bra, and removing it through the armholes, before depositing it in the laundry basket, watching him too. His jaw clenched and his eyes heated before he shut them tightly.

"Don't do that Felicity, if you want me not to snap," his voice ground out. 

Felicity grinned, triumphant, and got in the bed, looking up at the mirror, watching him get on the small couch and lock eyes with hers in reflection, like a ritual every night. They looked at each other for a long time before curiosity assailed her, and she asked what she had been wanting to for a really long time. 

"Why do you have a mirror on your ceiling?"

She saw his face shutter slightly before he put a hand behind his head and settled in. He stayed quiet and Felicity sighed, shaking her head at herself. She was about to break their stare and turn when his husky voice reached her. 

"When I was 19, Thea and I lived in a small house with Raisa," he began and Felicity's breath hitched, knowing this was painful for him to share. She remained silent, her eyes on his and he continued. "I had only been in the Bratva for a few years but I already had enemies. I knew that. So I slept in the outermost room of the house, keeping Thea inside and away from any danger."

His capacity for love astounded her daily. Love for only his sister. She shook her thoughts off and listened. "One night, a man came in to kill me from a window on the other side of the house, and he entered the room without me knowing a thing. Before I could react, he gave me this."

He pointed to a scar on his right abdomen, a knife wound. Her heart clenched, the need to go to him washing over her. But she remained rooted, letting him continue. "Since that night, I've only been able to sleep if I know I can see the entire room as soon as I wake up, so that no one can sneak up on me. A mirror on the ceiling is strategic for that. It lets me keep an eye on every corner of the room."

Felicity stayed quiet for a few heartbeats before she couldn't anymore. "I'm sorry, Oliver."

She was sorry, for every story of every scar he had and every scar he had escaped. She was sorry for everything he had seen in such a young age, the responsibilities he had shouldered in such a young age. She was sorry but a part of her was so, so proud of him, for being a survivor, for his absolute strength, for his love for his sister, for that human part of him he had held on to.

Oliver smiled softly at her, shaking his head. "How can you still find compassion for a man you hate, Felicity?"

Her heart stopped, before picking up rapidly again and she swallowed, changing the topic. "You have been honest with me, Oliver. Thank you for that. Though I wish you would tell me about..."

He sighed, resigned. "Trust me, Felicity, I would in a heartbeat. But I know what it would do to you."

Felicity didn't reply, knowing she would have her answers one way or another, but still happy that he had opened up to her at least as much as he had.

After a few minutes of tense silence, he asked quietly. "Does the mirror make you uncomfortable?"

She chuckled, muttering. "Well, that's one word for it."

His eyes stayed on her, heating as comprehension dawned upon him, their breathing in sync. Her eyes roamed over his form on the small couch and she winced, suddenly, seeing the way he was fit into it. The man deserved a decent night of sleep at least and how the hell he could get it like that, she didn't know. She thought about what he had said last week, about her regretting things with him. Would she regret this?

Biting her lip, she whispered. "Oliver?"

"Hmm?" His eyes were closed now.

Calling upon her strength, she inhaled deeply, taking a small step forward on faith. "Come to bed."

His closed opened so fast she couldn't believe. His gaze collided with hers, filled with a million questions, seeking a million answers, searching hers, his body frozen. They shared that look across their reflections, for minutes, neither moving a muscle, especially him. He looked wound up so tight that she nodded once at him, reassuringly.

She spoke again. "This is a very big bed, Oliver and I know you are cramped there. So, sleep here. It's okay."

He sat up on the couch as she did on the bed, and looked at her, his intense eyes demanding the truth. "Are you sure?"

A grin graced her lips. "Well, I can always kick you out if you do any funny business. Well, funny isn't the word for it. Hanky panky, basically. Anyways, i can kick you out."

A small smile tugged at his lips as he swiftly got up from the couch, his muscles flexing and moving in the lamp light, and came around the other side slowly, giving her ample time to change her mind. She wouldn't, not now. 

He got in on his side tentatively, still looking at her, and she did on hers, almost a foot of distance between them. Settling in the soft mattress, she lay on her back and closed her eyes.

"Thank you."

His soft words reached her and she looked sideways at his earnest face, looking back at her with some emotion she couldn't name, an emotion that made her breath falter.

She smiled a little and closed her eyes, calming her breathing, the tiredness from the fluctuating emotions of the day and the hard work getting to her, as she drifted off to sleep, believing him, hoping that he not make her regret this one step forward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine
> 
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	14. Fevered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyya, peeps!
> 
> Thank you everyone for your spectacular response to the story!  
> I'm back with another chapter, as promised. #PhoenixTuesdays :)
> 
> Stuff happens, obviously. And as the title says, things heat up. ;)
> 
> And don't forget to drop me a line. I'm always eager to know your thoughts, so go ahead. Enjoy!
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> Happy reading!!!

It was too hot. Stifling, despite the cool air in the room. 

Felicity opened her eyes, on her side on the bed, feeling Oliver wrapped around her like a vine, his legs twined with hers, his heavy arm across her stomach, keeping her prisoner against his solid back, his head completely on her pillow, buried in her neck. He was completely on her side, well his side originally, of the bed. Maybe he had gravitated because it had been his side. Good lord, the man was a furnace, and she meant that literally. He was warm, so warm that she had unconsciously kicked off the blankets in the night, her bare legs exposed completely and entwined with his rough ones. Her shirt had ridden up and bunched under her breasts, so she could feel his muscled arm against her tummy, his naked torso against her back, and well, his _very_ happy morning self hard against her hips, just separated by thin layers of fabric.

She swallowed, feeling his warmth seep into her, slowly setting her on fire as she lay unmoving, her heart starting to hammer in her chest. Her body definitely wanted _some_ hammering, if her tingling self was any indication. She gulped again, and looked at the clock on the bed. 6.30 AM. Too early for her to have woken up but she had to get out before she did something like press back into him. Oh dear gods of foreplay, she so wanted to. She wanted to press back and grind on him and see how he would react. Uh-huh. She had to get out.

Slowly, very carefully, she shifted just slightly and his hand tightened over her, pulling her back more solidly into him. Great job. Now she was completely pressed into him and it was like sin. So, so tempting. He grumbled something incoherent, his nose burying in her hair as he kept her in his hold and slept soundly, his very light snore tickling her neck. She wanted to squirm but she didn't want to wake him. She wasn't even daring to breathe.

Turning her head a bit, with the morning light seeping in through the curtains, basking the room in a soft glow, her eyes caught on the mirror above them on the ceiling and her heart stopped. She swore it did for a second before pattering with a vengeance. She looked at the image they created, with his big, hard, tanned muscled body engulfing her small, softer one, completely wrapped around her, fabric and naked skin peeking. It looked like he was devouring her. They looked like a picture one would hang in an erotic temple, the half nudity somehow even more erotic than complete nakedness.

She felt her breasts get heavy in a way she was unfamiliar with, her arousal hitting her so hard, turning her hotter than she was, a drop of sweat rolling down her cleavage. Maybe this was actually a really bad idea. She couldn't wake up next to him like this every morning. She would combust. Spontaneous combustion. She would literally evaporate.

But she remained absolutely motionless, just staring at the mirror, the crane in her neck starting to hurt but she couldn't remover her gaze. The mirror was HD. If mirrors could be HD, because she could actually make out every twitch in every muscle, every movement of the strand of her hair against his nose as he exhaled softly, all in the reflection. She would have really appreciated the mirror and its HD-ness some other time.

His hand slowly shifted, his rough palm and calloused fingers grazing over her stomach, sending electricity running through her spine, and she barely stifled her gasp, as it settled up on her breast, just laying there. Wonderful. Her husband was a sleep grabber. With grabby hands. What the heck did he even dream about to zero in on her babies? Was it person specific or just anything soft would do? Did he grab cushions when he slept on the couch, like he did to her boob? The thought was funnier than she thought.

His hand just stayed on her breast and her nipple started to pebble without her permission. Traitor.

This had been an absolutely awful idea. A shiver traveled down her spine and she felt him shift again, his hand traveling back down to her stomach. She swore if it moved south, more south, she would do something drastic. Like shoot him. Yup. She would shoot definitely him in his sleep if he ventured any lower than her abdomen at all. Mr. McGrabby.

All of a sudden, she felt him tense, and she knew he was up. Well, literally too. A giggle escaped her at her own innuendo before she could stop it. She turned her head to look at his puzzled face, and a slow frown etched her brow. Maybe this was too close. Maybe she really shouldn't have called him to bed. But she couldn't go back on her word. Resolute, she was about to slide out when suddenly hands grabbed her (See McGrabby) and pushed her on her back, a surprised yelp leaving her, as she looked at him wide eyed, looming over her, his weight resting on his arms beside her head. Lord help her if he started doing push ups now, she would put his soldier making factory out of commission.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, confused as he looked back at her, determined. Oh lord, did she have morning breath? She'd be mortified if he noticed. Yikes. 

"You don't get to shut me out, Felicity," he said, his blue eyes glinting. "You can't shut me out now."

She inhaled sharply, her breasts brushing against his chest, and realized he was straddling her thighs, completely trapping her. "I'm not shutting you out."

She saw him raise a ridiculous eyebrow. "Really? You were frowning."

She pressed back in to the pillow as his breath brushed over her, and she was so glad he had not commanded the gods of biology and actually had very slight morning breath. He was normal. He was not perfect. And she was so relieved, and she was confused as to why she was relieved. 

"Frowning is a pretty regular hazard around you, Oliver," she replied softly, not understanding. 

He frowned, a little confused. "But you had that furrow between your eyebrows."

"You mean my screw-Oliver-he-is-an-ass frown?" she teased. 

One side of his mouth curved up slightly, pulling the mole beside his lip up and this close, she could see so clearly his morning scruff, the different shades of blue in his eyes, the small scars hidden on his face, and that mole. That tempting little mole. 

She bit her lip. "I'm not shutting you out."

"But you were thinking it," he noted, his observation skills way too good for her benefit. 

She shrugged slightly, one side of her t-shirt falling off, exposing her shoulder. "So?"

"So, you don't get to do that, Felicity, not after making a decision," he commented, his eyes focused.

She pouted unconsciously. "I am a woman. It's my prerogative to change my mind."

His face fell so fast she couldn't believe it, a slight sadness coming over his face, and a smile lifted her mouth.

"Hey, grumpy," she said, and he looked back at her with those puppy eyes and she grinned. "I am not kicking you out of bed."

The expression on his face was priceless and she just couldn't contain it anymore. She burst out laughing, in a fit of giggles over his expression, as he growled and slumped his head on her chest, which was heaving as she laughed. 

"You'll be the death of me, солнешко," he grumbled and she laughed, her hand automatically going to his hair, her fingers carding through them. 

He purred almost, like a big cat, and she smiled. He buried his face harder into her. Morning Oliver was too much fun for her to regret this.   

Her bladder beeped its morning signal and she sighed, pushing up at him. He pulled back, frowning, and she explained. "I have needs."

Their eyes widened together, and she slapped her forehead. "Get your head out of the gutter. Not those needs. Though I do have them since I am a woman who has never had sex and you have a very voyeuristic mirror as your ceiling. But I was referring to peeing, and not your very obvious other P."

His mouth was curved up in a soft smile, his eyes slightly heated, as he jumped off the bed in a too graceful motion that had her staring at his body for a second too long. He noticed her ogling and grinned and she flushed, raising her eyebrows and watching him watch her as she slid down the bed and made her way to the bathroom.

Once shut, she leaned against the door, catching her breath. Mornings with him were definitely interesting. And she was not entirely sure how many mornings like this she could survive. With a sigh, she went about her business.

 

                                                       --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Bathed and dressed in a casual flowery dress, Felicity was in the kitchen, helping Raisa cook dinner, while Thea munched on chips on the counter. The day had gone by pretty easily. She had come out of the washroom to see Oliver already on the phone, speaking with a hard voice in Russian, bustling around with tension tight in his body, the almost fun guy from the morning gone. Without disturbing him, she had gone to her office, finishing up the project for the Summer Brothers, munching on a sandwich and a bagel she had stolen from the kitchen. Almost by late afternoon, after being ensconced in her zone, she had called Mr. Summer and set up a meeting in town after his work day at 7 PM, and went out to the kitchen, following the delicious smells wafting to her nose.

Cooking had been one of the only few things Felicity had bonded over with her mother, so she was used to the relaxing pleasure it brought her. After a lot of protest, Raisa had allowed her entrance behind the counter, and Felicity had jumped with glee. Raisa was a sweetheart, and very cuddly. And Thea was too snarky not to be teased.

"So," Felicity began with a small grin, chopping chilies, "what's up with you and Roy?"

She felt Thea pause, before she started defensively. "What do you mean?"

Barely able to contain her grin, she pounced. "I mean with the whole heart eyes, and sexy eyes, and so many eyes."

Thea crossed her arms on the counter. "Nothing's happening."

"Hmm," Felicity hummed. "So it wasn't Roy in the red hoodie I saw you go into the garden with two nights ago?"

She looked up and saw Thea flush, and Raisa joined in. "Yes, Miss Thea. He seems like a good boy."

Thea glared at both of them and Felicity grinned unabashedly when her shoulders slumped. "Alright, alright. We have been trying to get to know each other."

Felicity smiled. "I'm happy for you."

Thea tilted her head, considering her. "You really are?"

"Absolutely," Felicity passed the chilies to Raisa and picked up the grater for the cheese. "I told Roy this too. You are both good people who deserve to be happy. Plus have you seen each other's faces when the other is mentioned? I ship you guys, completely."

Thea laughed, munching on the chips. "What about Ollie? Does he know?"

Felicity winked at her. "I'm just delaying the inevitable black eye Roy is going to get." 

Raisa and Thea burst out laughing, as Thea shook her head. "You really know my brother."

Raisa left the kitchen as the doorbell rang and suddenly Thea took a hold of her hand, surprising Felicity, looking at her earnestly. "I know it's none of my business, but all those years ago, Ollie did something bad, didn't he? That's why you broke up?"

Felicity looked at Thea's hand on hers, and squeezed. "Yes."

"Then why did you marry him now?" Thea asked. "I mean it's so clear how very much in love the two of you are. I ship _you_ guys. But if it was so bad, why marry him?"

Suddenly she gasped. "Did Ollie force you?"

Felicity sighed, not wanting to lie to Thea. "Sort of. It's complicated." Yeah. So complicated even she didn't get it. 

Thea's face fell and Felicity's heart clenched. No. Whatever Oliver did was between them. He was a remarkable brother and there would be nothing tarnishing that. This time, she took a hold of Thea's hand and squeezed, looking right at her.

"Yes, I was not willing for this marriage but he had his reasons, Thea," she spoke softly, her own mind running. "He was protecting me. He might not be the poster child for a nice guy but what I do know is that he loves you so much and he is an amazing brother. Don't think less of him because of whatever is happening between us."

Thea sighed heavily. "I hope things work out for you."

A small smile lifted her face. "Me too," she said wistfully.

Before they could speak anymore, Roy entered the room, searching for her, his eyes hard. He gave a nod to Thea and motioned for Felicity to come with him. Felicity straightened, puzzled, and followed him. The last time Roy had done that, she had had her heart trampled upon. A sense of foreboding settled upon her as she followed him down an empty corridor. 

"I asked around about Ilyich, like you asked me to," Roy started without preamble. 

Felicity froze, nodding at him to go ahead. "What did you find?"

"That he is a ghost," Roy stopped, turning to look at her. "Nobody has seen him, or ever worked with him. All I found was that he is dangerous. And when I say dangerous, I mean go-looking-for-him-and-get-killed dangerous. He is into a lot of illegal businesses, but no one has seen him."

Felicity felt goosebumps erupting on her arms. She rubbed them to calm down. "Well, it was his man who tried to kidnap me that night."

Roy's jaw hardened. "I know. Whoever this guy is Felicity, he is powerful. He infiltrated Oliver's security, god knows what else he has done."

Felicity ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "But why come for me? Oliver said it's something to do with dad. You think it's for revenge? Like kidnap me and make dad pay like some b-grade movie plot?"

Roy nodded, considering. "That makes sense. It would also make sense for why Oliver is bent on your safety."

She nodded, her eyes locked on his as he slowly gripped her arm. "Don't worry. I have seen Oliver work. That man will die before he lets anything happen to you. So will Digg and I."

Felicity scoffed, her mouth twisting in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "That's the thing, Roy. I don't want anybody dying for me."

Roy opened his mouth but before he could speak, Diggle came down the corridor, calling for him. "Hey man, I have to run to the dock. Coming?"

Roy looked at Felicity almost in permission. She rolled her eyes. "Go, do your guy stuff. My meeting is two hours away so you can be back on time."

Digg smiled at her softly, almost teasing spark in his eyes. "Did you enjoy your 'meeting' yesterday?"

Ah, the jealous fit she had thrown. She narrowed her eyes, punching him in the arm. "We are never, ever to speak of that again. Ever. Got it?"

Both men smirked, echoing a "Yes, ma'am" and walked away. She shook her head and turned around, sobering. She wandered out the corridor, her mind drifting back to Ilyich and what Roy had told her. Whoever he was, he was dangerous, and ordering her kidnapping for whatever reason. She emerged from the corridor and saw the door to the basement, inconspicuously beckoning her.

Lost in her own thoughts, she walked to the door in a daze and walked down the stairs, hoping to find Oliver working out, maybe distract herself but the basement was plunged in darkness, completely silent. With a disappointed sigh, she turned and almost started up the stairs when she saw a small sliver of light coming from a door in the far corner of the room. Curious, she slowly, careful not to make any sounds, walked towards it, contemplating what could possibly be behind the door.

She reached it and hesitated. Oliver did not like her being down here without him, and he would flip if he found out she was nosing around. Well, she thought with anger, he could shove it where the sun didn't shine. She wanted answers and she was tired of not getting any.

With new found determination, she turned the knob and opened the door just a wee bit, peeking inside, and stilled. The guard who had been staring at her during the party at her parents house sat on a metal bed, hand cuffed, his face bruised and she swallowed down a lump at the sight. He looked up at the sound of the door opening and froze before his face split into a dirty, toothy grin.

She should really not be here, but she wanted to know, and this suddenly seemed like her only lead. Swallowing again, she straightened her spine and pinned the man with a cold stare. "Why were you looking at me that night?"

His eyes moved over her legs and her skin crawled, her hand tightening over the knob. He opened his mouth, his Russian accent thick. "You are a beautiful woman."

Gritting her teeth, she realized she wouldn't get any answers out of him beating around the bush. "Who is Ilyich?"

The man's grin widened as he pat his bed. "He is your worst nightmare, woman."

Her heart stilled and she waited for him to elaborate. He did not. Wetting her dry throat, she spoke again. "Why is he after me?"

The man laughed boisterously. "If you do not know, then you are a bigger fool than I thought." 

Biting back her anger, she ground out. "Tell me then."

The man leaned back on the bed, scanning her body lecherously. "Why don't you come inside and I will tell you everything in detail."

The fucking bastard! She wanted to walk in and punch him where it hurt the most, but she knew that would be very, very foolish. Feeling disgusted, she started to turn away when the man spoke again. "You come in and I will tell you everything about Ilyich."

"If you think that line is going to work, you are a bigger fool than I thought," she said and shut the door, locking it behind her.

"Oh, Queen can't save you!" he shouted from inside, laughing. "Ilyich gets what he wants. Breathe for now. You'll be screaming soon."

Felicity ran up the stairs, his laughter, his words echoing in her head. She opened the door to the house, and stepped outside, her chest heaving and froze. The entire place was in chaos, men walking about urgently, their guns waving in the air. Were they being attacked? Had something happened to someone?

Frowning, not understanding what the hell was going on, heart pounding as possibilities ran through her brain, she walked forwards and saw all the men still, their eyes trained on her. Taken aback, she stood in the middle of the hall, seeing the men start to slowly disintegrate back to their stations, not comprehending a thing. Had she entered some sort of bizarre universe today where everything was just weird?

Shrugging, still puzzled, she turned towards the stairs and froze. Oliver was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, seemingly casual. He was anything but. He was raving _mad, absolutely furious_. She could see the rage burning in his eyes, directed at her, pinning her to the spot, his jaw clenched so tight she was sure his teeth were gnashing.

He straightened slowly, coming towards her with a deliberate stride that was making her heart pound so hard her ears were throbbing. Without a word, he took a hold of her arm, pulling her with him towards his study, and she frowned at his pushy manner. What the hell?

"Ollie," she heard Thea's voice come from somewhere behind but Oliver didn't stop, opening the door to the study, pushing her in, and locking it behind him.

She was pinned against the locked door before she could open her mouth, his hands caging her in. What was it with him and her and vertical surfaces?

She swallowed back the comment, feeling his body tight with tension, vibrating in anger, his teeth grit as he just looked at her. So he was doing the mute, staring thing? Fine.

"Do I get a reason for this behavior?" she asked as evenly as she could, given how her own anger was mounting.

His lips pursed and he ground out. "Do I get a reason for why you did this?"

She blinked at him. "Did what?"

One hand suddenly punched the door hard and she glared at him. "You want to punch walls? Be my guest. But don't make me mad."

He scoffed sarcastically, his mouth twisting. "Why shouldn't I? You make me mad too."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she called for patience. "Let me out."

"Where were you?"

Her mouth opened in disbelief. "Seriously? That entire display outside was because you couldn't find me?"

His hand was suddenly gripping her chin, tilting her head up as he looked back at her, his anger burning. "Yes, Felicity. It was because I couldn't find you. Because nobody in this god damned house knew where the hell you were, nobody had seen you, and _I couldn't find you._ Is that clear enough for you?"

She huffed out, his anger sparking hers, and pushed at his hard chest. "You are not my keeper, Oliver."

He didn't budge an inch, his eyes hard. "No, солнешко, what I am is your husband. What I am is the man who vowed to keep you safe." His voice got harder as he leaned in closer. "What I am is a man who spent the last half hour imagining the worst possible things that could have happened to his wife, going out of his fucking mind. So, tell me where you were or God help me..."

"Or what?" she challenged, even though she knew he was angry because he had been worried. 

Oliver stared hard at her, his jaw clenching before pulling back with a growl and running his hands through his hair, pacing before her, trying so hard and so evidently to calm down. His body was humming with energy and she could feel her racing heart slowly calm down watching him struggle. 

"I went to ask you if you wanted to go for a drive after dinner," he said quietly, gazing out the window, his back still tight from where she could see. His words sent a soft flutter to her heart. "You weren't in your office. So I went down to the kitchen. Thea said you had left with Roy. I called Roy and he told me he had left you in the corridor."

He turned towards her, the turbulence in his eyes making her take an involuntary step forward. He continued. "I thought maybe you went out in the gardens like you used to when you wanted to get away sometimes. And when I didn't find you there, I panicked, Felicity. I don't trust all of my men and the thought that one of them could..."

He stopped, taking a deep breath and coming back to her as she took a few steps to him. He raised his hand and brushed her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline. "I had the entire grounds searched, I searched every room in the house myself. _And I couldn't find you,_ Felicity."

She raised her own hand, cupping his cheek and brushing against his scruff, her palm tingling, her heart clenching as she realized how truly scared he had been for her. He leaned into her touch, his eyes boring into hers. "Please tell me where you were."

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for him losing it again. "I was in the basement."

He stilled, his hand coming to her waist, the other tilting her head. "What did you do, Felicity?"

No 'what were you doing there' or 'what did you see'. He did know her well.

She met his gaze evenly, knowing she was not in the wrong here. Neither was he. That was the issue. "I asked the pseudo-guard about Ilyich."

Oliver stilled completely, except his hand trembled slightly over her chin. "And what did he say?"

"Nothing I didn't already know," she replied, searching his blank face. He didn't react, so she narrowed her eyes. "Although he did offer to tell me anything I wanted to know if..."

She trailed off, and Oliver closed his eyes, his lips pursing, cracking his neck to the side, hand tightening on her waist.

"You know I won't stop till I know the truth, Oliver," she spoke softly.

His mouth curved slightly, sardonically. "I know, вспыльчивая моя."

She waited for him to speak but he didn't.

Stomping her feet in frustration, she screeched out loudly. "You stubborn, stubborn, stubborn mule-headed man!"

Pulling away, she walked to the door, gritting her teeth at the male population of the world. She stopped at the door, and turned to see him standing at the same spot, looking at her with that same dejected expression he had had in bed this morning. 

"Are you telling me?" she demanded, once and for all.

"You know I would if I could," his tone spoke volumes. Her anger gone at his honesty, but feeling grumpy nonetheless, she picked up a pen stand lying beside the door and ducked it at his head, which he ducked with stupidly quick reflexes, blinking at her in surprise.

"I think I will go to my original plan after all and just kill you in your sleep," she grit out, her frustration palpable. She saw him bite his lip and turned to leave before stopping again. "Oh, and you are taking me on that drive."

The smile on his face made her even more grumpy as he started following her out. She sighed, resigned, and spoke. "I have a meeting in an hour in town so don't flip out again, okay?"

"Okay."

They reached the stairs and his soft "Hey" had her pausing and turning around. He was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly and looking at her with his soft look. "I was wondering if I could drive you for the meeting? We could have dinner afterwards and then the drive?"

Her heart stuttered and her breath left her as her mouth curved up in a smile. "Okay."

"Sure?"

Her smile widened. "Sure. I'll be down in half an hour."

He nodded and she ascended to the room, going straight to the closet and surfing through it for the perfect dress. 

 

                                                       -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She came down in her favorite red dress, formal enough for the meeting yet stylish enough for after. Oh, the after had butterflies fluttering in her tummy. Although she was exasperated because Oliver was not telling her anything, his honesty still made her not be completely mad at him. And she knew she was going to get to the bottom of it eventually. He knew that too. 

The sun was almost setting in the sky, which looked like it would pour again soon, as she made her way towards the main door. 

"Aha," Thea said as she was going up to her room, crossing Felicity on the way, her eyes glinting in appreciation at the sleeveless red dress and golden heels. "Very tasteful, Mrs. Smoak-Queen."

Felicity grinned. "Why, thank you for the compliment, Miss Queen."

Thea smirked, wiggling her eyebrows. "Ollie is waiting outside with your chariot. Have a good night."

Shaking her head fondly, Felicity headed to the main door with a wave at her, walking out into the cool evening air, watching Digg and Roy coming in from wherever they had returned. Digg went to Oliver to talk, where he waited beside the silver Porsche, looking so delicious in his three-piece suit that she shivered slightly.

Roy came to a stop before her as they stood under the archway. "I'll be ready..."

"No need, Roy," Felicity interrupted with a smile. "Oliver is driving me."

A smirk came over his face as he searched her face and she smacked his arm. "Not a word."

"Or what?" he teased.

Felicity grinned. "Or I tell Oliver about..."

"Yeah, yeah."

Felicity grinned at him as he shook his head smiling, his eyes suddenly fixing on a spot behind her, narrowing, his smile dimming. Before she could even turn a muscle to look, Roy gripped her arm tightly and shoved her hard to the ground, shouting "Get down!"

Her balance tipped and she fell back on her butt, hitting her head on the pavement, hearing a whoosh in the air and shouts coming from all around her.

She heard Oliver scream her name in a terrified voice.

"I'm okay," she spoke as loudly as she could, disoriented. Head spinning, she slowly pushed herself up and blinked a few times, and looked around. Men were spilling out of the house as Oliver and Digg got up swiftly from their place, looking around too. Her eyes suddenly went to the red hoodie beside her and she screamed, tearing up, hurrying over to where Roy lay, bleeding.

He looked up at her and tried to smile, wincing instead and she put her trembling hands on him, her brother, who had saved her yet again.

He had taken a small arrow, meant for her, to his chest.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
> вспыльчивая моя - My wildcat
> 
> So, what did you think?
> 
> Also, if check out my other stories if you liked this. I have an Al Sah-Him collection and a Soulmate AU too. :)
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	15. Tempestous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Happy Friday! I'm back with another chapter and I have to say the response to the last one blew me away. COMPLETELY! Thank you so very much for the amazing feedback. It just drives me more!
> 
> This chapter is the longest I have ever done, almost 8K words, and since I do them in one sitting, I really hope you guys like it. And well, stuff happens in this chapter too. ;)
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line. I'm always eager to know your thoughts, so go ahead. Enjoy!
> 
> Happy reading!!!

Everything was a blur.

Felicity looked down at Roy's unconscious, bleeding body and the blur intensified. She felt firm hands grasp her by the arm, picking her up from the ground and pushing her towards the house, but her eyes remained on Roy, who was now being carried inside by Digg. Dazed, she walked forward just as Thea's cry pierced the air, and finally she felt herself blinking and turning to see Thea move towards Roy from near her. Without any thought, her hand shot out and grasped Thea's arm, stopping the sobbing girl in her tracks. She tried to shake her off, but Felicity held still, her logical mind kicking in, and shook her head at her.

"They will take care of him, Thea," she said softly, but still followed the small entourage to the small but well equipped medical room she had never entered before, except on her tour of the mansion. Now, slightly more clear headed, she heard Oliver's hard voice barking orders at the men to search every inch of the grounds, orders at the staff to call the doctor and get him supplies, before he entered the room himself, heading straight to where Roy lay. 

Felicity stood beside the door, keeping Thea from getting in the way, and frankly holding on to her because she needed to hold on to someone herself.

"You should leave the room," Oliver said curtly, removing his jacket and tie, and folding his sleeves over his forearms. And she knew how worried she was because she really could not find it in herself to appreciate the smooth motion.

She remained silent, just as Thea turned into her, burying her face in her neck, and Felicity rubbed her back softly, offering whatever small comfort she could. Not repeating himself again, his body tense, Oliver called out "Digg" in a clipped tone.

Eyes wide, Felicity watched Digg procure a knife and a bottle of vodka. Oliver took it and leaned over Roy, cutting his hoodie away from his shoulder, removing the scrap of fabric away. Felicity looked at the mottled, purple skin around where the arrow was embedded, and she felt bile rising in her throat. Roy had taken that for her. Tightening her hands around Thea, literally holding on to her now, she watched mutely in equal parts horror and fascination as Oliver made quick work pouring a generous amount of vodka on the wound, and slicing the arrow right above it. Roy face twisted but he remained out of it completely.

Throwing away the upper part, Oliver motioned for Digg to come forward silently. Digg stepped up and picked up Roy's torso, and without missing a beat, Oliver pulled out the arrow completely form the muscle, blood spurting from the hole making her want to gag. Staunching the flow, Oliver instructed for the two other men in the room to get him something but she could not focus, her eyes fixated on the blood that seeped through Oliver's fingers, and he didn't even flinch at any of it. Neither did Digg. Both were like machines working together. 

An old man entered the room then, and Thea turned around to see him, sighing in relief.

"He's our family doctor," she whispered on a sob, wiping under her eyes. 

Felicity saw the old man take note of the wound and examine it thoroughly, asking Oliver things in Russian to which he replied brusquely. After a few minutes, the doctor managed to staunch the bleeding and shut the gaping wound, pressing gauze and white bandages to the area, along with a sling. 

"As long as he does not pressure the wound," the doctor said in lilting English, "he should be fine in 15 days. Give or take."

Felicity felt the knot in her gut loosen, and finally took what she felt was the first breath of deep air into her lungs. Her relief at the news was palpable. As was Thea's "Oh, thank god."

The doctor and Oliver spoke for a few more minutes, and finally the old man left. Thea took a deep breath and went to sit beside Roy, unabashedly holding his hand in front of her brother and Felicity's eyes flew to Oliver, to gauge his reaction. He didn't react. At all. Had he known about them already?

His demeanor cold and hard, his body tense, he nodded once to Digg brusquely, before leaving the room without a word or glance at her, Digg following on his heels. The room emptied, and sighing, Felicity went forward to sit next to Thea, the silence between them one of shared relief as they watched a guy they both loved differently breathe softly.

"You have blood on your hands, Felicity."

Felicity's eyes shot up to Thea's, widening at the accusation, although it felt deserved. Thea smiled softly and pointed to her hands. "Literally, I meant."

"Oh," Felicity relaxed. Even though she had only known this girl for a little while, the thought of Thea disliking her left a sour taste in her mouth.

Getting up from her place, she pressed a small kiss to Roy's forehead, and then to Thea's. They held gazes for a second, both sharing their mutual relief, before Felicity left them in peace and went upstairs to the bedroom, not encountering anyone on her way at all. 

Once inside, she did not turn on the lights, just kicked off her heels to the side, and made a beeline for the bathroom, ripping the ruined dress from her body, throwing it to the side as well. She stood in front of the mirror, looking back at herself clad only in her pink underwear. But her eyes went to her hands, stained with Roy's blood that was dried by now. His blood. Everywhere. Between her fingers. Inside her nails. Etched deep into her skin. She had never seen anyone bleeding so much. She had never seen, despite her upbringing with mobsters, a weapon pushed and pulled out of someone's skin, marring it forever. And today, she had been unable to look away.

Roy had taken that arrow pushing her aside. And logically she knew it was his job, but she could not reconcile any of that with her hammering heart. A bead of sweat formed on her forehead and she wiped it away, smearing a line of blood on her face. She froze, staring at that in the mirror, and a small exhale wrenched from deep in her body. 

Turning on the faucet, she let the cold water rush over her painted hands, cleansing them, the red swirling dangerously with the water, draining out. And then she started rubbing her hands raw, till she was sure she had gotten every ounce of red out, splashing her face and scrubbing it till nothing of the blood remained. She stood there, chest heaving, looking at her over stimulated pink face.

Inhaling deeply, gathering herself together, she went out back in the room, switching on the lamp, to see a tray of food that Raisa had probably left there for her. Yeah. Her plans for dinner were so done. 

Shaking her head at herself, she slowly opened Oliver's closet, pulling out one of his many black t-shirts, and pulling it over her head before any second thoughts could assail her. His scent, coming from the soft fabric, comforted her in a way she hadn't thought possible. Feeling much calmer now, quickly eating, she picked up her tablet, checking the security of the house and hacking into the cameras to find something. Knowing she couldn't handle much more tonight upon not finding anything, she switched on the television, selecting a movie and watching, her mind only half in it.

Just as the credits rolled on, the door to the room opened, and she turned her head to see Oliver, his whole body slumped, walk in with a sigh, carrying his suit jacket and tie. She watched as he threw it away as carelessly as she had and went straight to the bathroom, like she had. She heard the sound of the shower running, and she flopped down on her stomach on the bed, closing her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief now that he was here. And she knew that maybe she should not be attaching so much comfort to him, but she did and there was no denying that for her. 

After a few minutes, the door opened and she heard him pad through the room, stopping near the edge of the bed. Her face into the pillows that muffled her voice, she sighed in exasperation. "Do you want to go back to the couch?" 

Silence. She sighed again. "Then get in the bed."

The bed dipped beside her and she turned her neck towards him, hugging the pillow under her, seeing him settle onto his side, his warm, bare torso just inches away from her as he turned to face her, she remained on her stomach. They looked at each other in silence, just wordlessly holding gazes, for long minutes, before Felicity whispered. "What happened tonight?"

Oliver turned on his side to face her, and raised a hand to her face, pushing a strand of her hair back from her face, a sardonic smile lifting his mouth. "I wanted to take you out on a date. Someone thought it was a good time for me not to."

The soft moonlight in the room cast his face slightly in shadows, but enough for her to see him. "Did you find out who?"

"Not yet."

She swallowed. "You think it has anything to do with...?"

He was shaking his head before she was done, his eyes hardening. "I have too many enemies, солнешко. And I have painted a target on your back by marrying you."

She contemplated his words silently, trying to understand if this truly had been that. He gazed back at her evenly, honestly, his hand at his side now, and she found herself missing the contact. 

Biting her lip, overcome with sudden shyness, she blinked at him. "Umm... Oliver?"

He looked at her curiously. "Yeah?"

"You mind if I..." she paused, not knowing really how to tell him that she wanted to be beside him, to feel him completely, to feel alive as she did only when she was with him. 

But she had forgotten that he knew her all too well. Without a word, he placed a hand on her waist, pulling her across the space between them, flush against his body as he let her stay on her stomach and stayed on his side. The thin fabric of his t-shirt did nothing to mar the heat of his skin, his face inches from hers, her bare legs tangling like they had in the morning with his bare ones, as he lay in his boxer briefs, the feel of his skin against her exactly what she had needed. 

His fingers softly ran over her spine, sending a small shiver through her body, just tracing the line over his shirt, lips curved in a small smile. "I noticed you stole from my closet."

Feeling a matching tug on her lips, she shrugged lightly. "I just wanted to see what the hype of wearing a guy's shirt was about."

His dimple appeared as he grinned softly. "Does it live up to the hype?"

She crossed her arms under her head, hiking the shirt up even more, smiling completely as his fingers just stroked her spine. "The jury is still out on that one."

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I have to say I'm partial to these now."

"So you'd be okay if this one doesn't go back in your closet?" She held her breath, searching his eyes.

His gaze softened, and his hand came to rest on the curve of her hip. "I'd be very okay."

She buried her head closer to his, so close she could feel his breath on her face now, just breathing with him for long moments. 

"I'm glad you're okay, солнешко," his whisper ghosted over her face, the hand on her hip motionless except his thumb moving in circles. She suddenly remembered all the blood on her hands and a shiver ran through her, her eyes shifting to his Adam's apple. His hand tightened on her hip. "Felicity?"

She shook her head, knowing he had noticed. Of course he had. Did anything escape the man's attention? "It's just Roy. I know he's going to be fine and I know he is my bodyguard but..."

His hand started stroking her spine again, slowly, as he spoke softly. "Felicity, Roy loves you. In fact he may be one of the few men whose love for you I am absolutely certain about. He did what he did and I know he'd do it a hundred times to keep you safe. Just like I would."

Her breath hitched as her eyes went to him. "Roy told me that but..."

"No buts, Felicity," he cut her off firmly. "Would you think we wouldn't do this for Thea? Would you want her feeling guilty about us keeping her safe?"

Felicity inhaled, shaking her head, then stopped, her eyes widening. "Wait, you said 'we'?"

He rolled his eyes, something she had never seen him do, and raised one eyebrow. "You really think something is going on with my sister, in my house, under my nose and I wouldn't know?"

She blinked, surprise covering her face very obviously. "And you are okay with it?"

His jaw worked. "No. But I can't really hit Roy after he took an arrow for you now, can I?"

Her jaw dropped, a glint coming in her eyes. "Mr. Queen, are you saying you approve of your sister's boyfriend?" she teased. 

"No, Mrs. Smoak-Queen," he teased back, his other hand coming under her head and pulling her closer. "I'm saying I pretend my sister doesn't have one."

A giggle left her before she could stop it and Oliver smiled at her, shaking his head. She quietened down and just looked at him, felt him all around her, his musky smell overpowering her, and she relished in the way this man made her feel like a live wire, so, so alive. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed her lips to his quickly and pulled back, her cheeks heating. She had only wanted to peck him. Nothing else. 

He blinked at her once, surprised, before a soft smile curved his mouth  and he pressed his forehead to hers, just breathing her in as she did him. 

Her eyes went to his shoulder, where she could see two scars close together, and her breath hitched remembering Roy's arrow, the way it must have hurt. She had known things had been painful for Oliver but only now was she realizing how absolutely brutal they must have been. His entire body was like a map to a very violent history that he had survived. Oh, he had survived and she felt a burst of pride at him for that strength. 

Raising a hand, she softly touched the skin, feeling the mottled flesh against her fingers, and felt his tense slightly. But he remained silent, continuing his movements with her spine, and she caressed that scar, trying to heal it with her touch. 

She looked back up at him to see his eyes trained on her, sharp and on edge, and she spoke softly, seeing how insecure he felt at the moment. "I'm proud of you."

He looked taken aback for a second before his brow furrowed in that way she found adorable but she was pretty sure he would deny ever associating with that term. "For?"

Her hand moved to his jaw, thumb brushing over his stubble as he leaned into it with a soft sigh. "For surviving. For not letting all this make you the monster you could have been but aren't. You're a good man, Oliver."

He stared at her for a few moments before swallowing visibly and pressing his lips to her head, before pressing his forehead to hers again. "You constantly surprise me, солнешко."

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, she whispered, reminding him as he kept his eyes closed, completely wrapping himself over her. "We still have a drive to go out for." 

"Yes, we do," he whispered back, and she realized she liked this. This small bubble on this bed, just the two of them, nothing hanging over their heads. Just being. 

Eyelids getting heavier, closing her eyes, she felt his arm wrap around her waist more solidly, pulling her closer which was humanly not possible anymore, cocooning her with his body as much as he could, her neck fitting into the crook of his. Feeling content in a way she hadn't thought after the day she'd had, she snuggled closer to his warmth and drifted to oblivion.

 

                                                                                  ---------------------------------------------------------------

 

Two days. 

It had been two days since since Roy had taken a proverbial bullet and a literal arrow for her, bled all over her now ruined favorite dress, and passed out. Felicity sighed as she entered his room where he was resting, and saw him checking his phone under the pain medication he had been given. He was still in the medical room and this time, Felicity could actually look around and see it like she had been unable to do previously for her worry. The room was small, almost half the size of her bedroom, but it was cozy. She could see Thea's touches on the lively painting facing the bed, and the muted shade of beige in the room. The bed looked cozy too, despite of being small, and the walls were lined with metallic drawers she knew held medical equipment and supplies. How many times had people had to be treated here? How many times had Oliver bled here? How many of his scars had been etched here?  

She was broken out of her musings as Roy sighed. His eyes moved up to her as she walked in and he smiled. Seeing him conscious for the first time in two days brought a lump to her throat and she sat beside him, taking a hold of his hand, narrowing her eyes. "I swear if you ever do that again, Roy Harper, I will kill you myself."

He snorted at that. "With your tablet?"

She punched him slightly on the good arm like she used to. "Don't underestimate my tech."

His lips curled and he smiled, shaking his head. "Only an idiot would do that. I'm not an idiot. What I am is your bodyguard, Felicity."

"Not for the foreseeable future," she reminded him sternly, pointing to his shoulder. "At this rate, roles will be reversed and I will have to knock someone out protecting you." 

He scrunched up his nose at that before frowning a little. "Not happening. Anyways, who is your bodyguard while I am out of commission?"

Felicity rolled her eyes, remembering the heated argument she had had with Oliver the previous night in bed. He had been insistent on having Diggle be her temporary bodyguard while Roy recuperated, and she had not budged on her stand that Oliver dealt with bad stuff everyday and needed Digg with him way more than she did. They had been lying in bed but still had argued for almost half an hour, both stubbornly staring each other down, which had been ridiculous considering how entwined they had been, before finally, Oliver had sighed in defeat and said through his stupid clenched jaw that he would find another guy for the temp place. Unable to contain her triumph, Felicity had totally done a fist pump, accidentally hitting him on the nose. Horrified, she had asked him a gazillion times if that had hurt and he had just shaken his head, more amused that hurt, calling her a wildcat like he did sometimes (and she totally admitted to having looked up that term after he had called her that, just for research purposes) and they had gone to sleep, with him teasing her.

Roy snapped his fingers in front of her face, snapping her out of her reverie. "Hello. Earth to Felicity."

Felicity blinked suddenly, disoriented. "Huh?"

Roy grinned. "I asked who is your temp bodyguard for now?"

Felicity shook her head at herself. "Ivan," she told him, referring to the man who had stood outside her room when Roy hadn't been able to.

Roy nodded approvingly, his eyes suddenly drooping, the pain med kicking in. "Good guy."

At his mumble, Felicity nodded back and squeezed his arm lightly. "You rest, alright? I'll be back later."

He nodded again, his eyes already shut and Felicity squeezed his arm once again, reassuring herself as she took in his bandaged shoulder and slightly pale pallor of his skin that he was alright, then walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

She decided to take a walk out in the gardens. She had woken up this morning when Oliver had tried to disentangle himself from her, getting out of the bed. She remembered making a gurgled noise of protest when he had just told her softly to go back to sleep, and that he had to go somewhere. With a small brush of his fingers over her hair, he had gone into the shower. And though she had tried going back to sleep, she had gotten too used in only a few nights of sleeping with her personal furnace and muscles wrapped around her, and the bed had felt too empty for her to do so. She rolled her eyes at herself. That was one sentence she had never thought she would say, even in her head. Especially in regards to Oliver.

She had gone to her office after freshening up and taking sandwiches with her, and worked the entire day away on another program, knowing from Raisa that Roy had been unconscious the entire time and Oliver had been out of the house with Digg.

It was now dark outside. The evening was setting in and she wanted to relax, and properly think, alone, about certain things. So, a walk to the garden it was. Gardens had always soothed her. She used to go there when she had been a kid and she went there even now at times.

Thea came down the stairs just as she was going towards the back door. She looked dressed to the nines, in a beautiful shimmer halter top and dark trousers with silver heels, and stopped on seeing Felicity.

"Heyya."

Felicity smiled, raising her eyebrows. "Where are you off to?"

Thea smiled back, putting her phone in her bag. "The club. I have to go in tonight. One of the liquor shipments has some glitch and I have to check it out."

Felicity nodded. Thea, though she seemed very carefree and young, was one of the most hard-working girls Felicity had ever met, and she respected her for that.

"You've seen Roy? He's awake. Or well was."

Thea's smile faltered slightly and she inhaled. "Yeah. I saw him a while ago. Seeing him like that... I'm just so happy he is okay."

"Me too."

Thea suddenly bit her lip and considered Felicity, making Felicity curious. "Did Ollie say something about him? And me? Or well us?"

Felicity bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grinning, the soft conversation with Oliver that night coming back to her. "He knows, Thea."

Thea blinked in surprise, her jaw dropping. "But...I..."

Felicity put a hand on her arm to stop her from stammering. "You really think he wouldn't know?"

Thea exhaled loudly, and Felicity squeezed her arm like she had Roy's. "Just talk to him whenever. He loves you, Thea. He'll be fine. Well, he'll be grouchy, but fine."

Thea nodded, still looking dazed, looking at her watch. "I have to run or I'll be late. See you later?"

"Yup," Felicity said, releasing the girl and watching her walk out gracefully, with a smile.. Although Felicity had never thought she would be happy when she had been getting married, she realized that despite everything, she was. This house, which had been a stranger till almost half a dozen weeks ago, had become more of a home to her than she could have thought. And her McGrabby of a husband was still grabbing 'things' in his sleep and still hiding things from her, but she understood now that it was encoded in his DNA to protect people. After everything he had been through, things she could not even fathom, she could not completely blame him for that. But she didn't have to stop looking on her own. And she had warned him too that she wouldn't.

Suddenly needing to know more, she changed directions and headed to the basement, intending to having a long chat with the pseudo-guard and getting some answers of her own, no matter what. Not that she would go five feet in front of him. No, thank you very much. She wouldn't touch the bastard with a ten foot pole, creepy as he was. But she was sure there was something in his life she could threaten digitally. And make him squeak and rat out whatever he knew.

Taking out her phone, she opened the door to the basement, seeing it flooded with light, and softly closed it, without making a sound. She was about to descend when a voice in Russian reached her. And that made her curse herself. Why oh why had she refused the offer to learn Russian when she had been a kid? Stuff would make so much more sense now, if she had accepted. And that was on her bucket list. Learning Russian. She was done feeling like the only idiot around.

No, she was not an idiot. By any means.

She opened the app she had designed after her almost abduction, since not knowing the language had frustrated her. It was a language app, designed to take audio input in Russian and give her the written output in English on the screen. She pressed the red button to begin the recording, listening to the conversation herself, trying to ascertain things from the tone of voices, letting the app listen in too, and seeing the translations, although maybe not accurate, but enough to tell her what the hell they were talking about.

She heard Oliver's low, dangerous voice come in Russian and looked down at the screen impatiently, at the small circle looping and loading, waiting for a translation.

 

 _"Tell me what Ilyich is planning. You have enough body parts and I have enough time if you don't."_  

 

Felicity's eyes widened and her heart started thumping. They were talking about Ilyich and there was a fat chance she would find out something. She waited with baited breath for the man to reply. 

 

_"She came in to see me a few days ago. I saw her."_

 

Oliver remained silent as the man spoke, but she could see in her head the tensed way he must have been holding his body, clenching his fists by his side. She had not told him about the guard hitting on her like a railroading truck. And he was going to be mad. Very mad. She swallowed and the pseudo-guard went on.

 

_"Pretty little thing she is. She looked so scared. I invited her inside, to my bed. Her legs looked good enough to wrap..."_

 

She suddenly heard a chair scuffing across the floor and Digg voiced a low "Mr. Queen." Her heart was almost in her throat, knowing how absolutely furious Oliver would be right now, and how very dangerous he could be like that.

His voice came again, way harder that she had ever heard.

 

_"I'm holding your neck. Next time, I'll break it. Tell me what Ilyich wants."_

 

The man laughed before speaking.

 

_"Ilyich wants what I want, and what you have. You know he will have her under him, as he spreads her open and..."_

 

The sound of flesh hitting flesh was loud in the basement, and she clapped a hand to her mouth, trying not to make any sound at all. The sound came again and this time Digg's "Oliver" was forceful. Blood was pounding in her ears as she stared at the screen, looking at the crude things the guard was saying to her very self-proclaimed possessive and jealous husband. Oh boy.

Pseudo-guard apparently had some sort of death wish though, because the next thing she saw on her screen was

 

_"It will happen. Fuck her as much as you want now. She will be gone before you know."_

 

The silence for a minute was loaded and she was sure she could hear every breath the guard was taking, which might have been his very last. Oliver's voice, now much in control, came coldly. She looked at the screen. 

 

_"He was trying to abduct her before. Why try to kill her now? What changed?"_

 

Felicity's heart stopped.

She looked at the screen in disbelief, shaking her head. She had asked him very clearly if the attack had had anything to do with Ilyich. He had told her it hadn't been.

He had lied.

He had _lied._

And she had looked him in the eyes and seen only honesty. And he had been lying. 

What else had he lied about that she had thought was the truth? How many other times had he made a fool out of her? Had he lied every time that he had looked her in the eyes and promised her something?

She did not know anymore. Her mind was flooding with memories, their new memories, every moment that she had believed him a little more, every moment that she had opened up her heart and let down her guard even more.

She stood on top of the stairs, slightly numb, unable to believe that the man she had slowly started to trust had lied to her and she had read honesty in his eyes. Her body shook slightly but she stood, waiting it out, wanting to know whatever she could.

But the conversation had stopped downstairs and sounds of footsteps and rustling came from below. She knew she should move away before someone spotted her but she could not get her feet to listen to her brain. She was rooted, her emotions in a turmoil she had not felt since the last three years, and suddenly she felt like she was right outside that room, listening in on Oliver talking to Diggle, listening to her trust, her heart being trampled upon.

How could she have seen honesty in his eyes when he had been lying? Was she that blind?

She was exactly outside that wretched room even now. He had lied. And she had not realized, till now, when her heart was aching, exactly how much she had come to trust him.

She saw the man who was her husband, Oliver, come at the foot of the stairs, looking sideways at someone first, nodding brusquely, before looking up the stairs and seeing her, his gaze colliding with hers. Surprise washed over his face before he _really_ looked at her. She could see the wheels in his mind running, seeing her standing frozen, before his eyes drifted to the phone in her numb hand and came back to her, understanding dawning upon his face, the fear in them stunning her but maybe he was faking it like he faked his honesty. 

"No, no, no, no. Dear god, no!" He whispered, taking a step up and that spurred her body into action. She couldn't handle him right now. She just couldn't. She didn't have the strength.

Whirling on her heel, she quickly opened the door and ran out of the room, heading straight for the main door, not knowing where she was going. 

She heard his frantic voice calling her name repeatedly, as he came after her but she didn't stop, almost close to the door now. She didn't know where she was going to go, was clueless, but she just had to get out, get away from him, before his long legs caught up with her. 

His arms came around her tightly, holding her in place and she lashed out, struggling to get free. 

"Let go of me," she cried out, twisting and turning to get away. 

"Shh," he whispered in her ear, holding her still with an ease that infuriated her even more. "Please, Felicity. Please. Please."

Please what? What more did he want from her? She hated herself for the tears that were streaking across her cheeks, dripping onto his forearms, as he held her against him tightly, just breathing into her hair, repeating "Please" over and over again, requesting something she was unable to give him anymore. 

The fight went out of her and she went lank against him, her body trembling uncontrollably, not caring anymore. How much more of her could he break anyways?

She felt him turning her in his arms as he picked her up with surprising ease, and carried her to his study in silence. She felt his gaze trained on her but she didn't look up. She didn't hold him, but she could feel the pounding of his heart from where her head lulled on his chest. That's what he had done yet again. He had lulled her, into a sense of comfort. A sense of intimacy. A sense of security. But all false? 

The battle inside her was waging. A part of her told, the part which had thrived with him, the part which slept peacefully with him, told her there was an explanation and she just had to let him elucidate his reasons. The other part of her, that girl who had had her heart broken by him, the part which was slow to trust him, told her she had been a fool for beginning to trust him again. The battle was raging inside her and she didn't know which part to listen to.

He closed the door behind them and softly deposited her on the couch, kneeling right before her, holding her hands with his.

"Felicity, please look at me," he begged. There was no other word for it.

He begged and without her permission, she felt her moistened eyes drifting to his, seeing fear and something else mingling there. But what she was seeing, was it true? Or was she seeing what she wanted to? Was it all a sham?

"Say something. Talk to me," he urged her, holding her hands.

She looked into his eyes, searching them for any crack, anything, and her mouth trembled. "Tell me the truth."

His hands tightened around hers and his eyes closed, a loud exhale leaving him, an exhale that breathed life back into her. Before he could say anything, she spoke again, her voice wavering but the intention clear. "I just heard you tell the man you knew the attack that day had something to do with Ilyich. When I asked you that night, you told me it wasn't."

Suddenly his proximity became too much, and she snatched her hands back, stepping away from him. "You looked me in the eyes and you lied to me, Oliver. What am I supposed to think? How the hell am I supposed to even share the same room with you, let alone the same bed? How am I supposed to trust..."

Before she could complete her sentence, he had turned her around, taking a hold of her face in his big hands, piercing her with his intense gaze. "I did not know then, Felicity."

She scoffed and turned her face away but he held her still, keeping their eyes locked, firmly speaking. "I swear on Thea's life I did not know till yesterday. I had really thought it was one of our other enemies."

That gave her pause. Whoever he was, he was a brother unlike she had ever seen and she knew it in her bones that he would never, ever swear on Thea's life if it wasn't true. She closed her eyes, unable to process the turbulent emotions inside her that switched so suddenly.

Her mouth trembled again and she gripped his hands, feeling his elevated pulse under her fingers wrapped over his wrist, opening her eyes, locking their gazes. "Oliver. I just... I hadn't realized I had begun to trust you," she admitted. "And then..."

"I haven't lied to you, Felicity. I wouldn't do that. Not now," he said earnestly, coming closer, but she stepped back, needing the distance, needing the truth.

"You do lie by omission, Oliver," she reminded him, wiping her eyes, straightening her spine. "The lies need to stop. Tell me who Ilyich is."

Oliver sighed, gripping the back of his neck, eyes closing. "Felicity..."

And that tone spiked her anger. After everything that had just happened, he still expected her not to know? She had been understanding enough, but this too much. It was her life on the gamble. She had a right to know.

"Don't 'Felicity' me," she ground out, pinning him with her eyes. "Tell me the truth."

His head shot up at her tone, his own eyes narrowing. "You know I..."

She didn't let him finish, tired of hearing that same tune again and again. The anger burned its way through her veins, giving her the strength. She looked at him, taking a step forward. "You know what I thought standing in that basement, listening to you men, thinking you had lied to me again and I hadn't even noticed? I felt like a fool. Like the fool I had felt three years ago."

His jaw clenched and she saw it got to him. And realization dawned upon her. The only way Oliver would talk was if he would snap. And the only way he would snap was if he would get furious. She knew he would never hurt her, even in his anger, so she narrowed her eyes and started talking, knowing it would push his buttons, needing him to snap and talk.

"I don't throw what you did those years ago in your face, Oliver," she spoke loudly, almost yelling at him, watching him turn his back on her and stand completely still, his hands fisting. She continued. "But today, I felt like you threw it back in mine. Because you know what I had thought standing outside that door that day? I had felt like trash. I had felt used and you had done that to me."

"You hadn't let me explain," he ground out, and she knew he was gritting his teeth.

She snorted. "Yeah, well, you didn't try to, did you? You just left. You let me question myself. And that is exactly what I did today, standing there. You know why? Because you hide things from me."

His body was almost vibrating but he didn't snap. Clenching her own hands, she gave the final push, knowing that if this didn't snap him, nothing would.

"I'm done," she said and watched his head shoot to her, his eyes angry and wide. "I'm so done with your shit, with you not explaining things to me, keeping me in the dark. I am so done being here."

She took a step towards the door. "I'm leaving. I don't care if Ilyich finds me. Actually I hope he does. At least I'll have some answers! You don't give me any and I don't know where I am going but I am done. Three years ago..."

_"You have no fucking idea what happened three years ago!"_

His loud bellow made her freeze in her tracks. She turned to see him stride towards her, his entire body so tensed she was certain he was spasming muscles, and she took a step back, flinching. She had never seen him so angry, not when she had disappeared or when Ray hit on her.

He caged her in against the door, like he always did, his chest heaving, growling. "You want an answer? I'll give you an answer. You have no idea what happened all those years ago, and you shoved me out before I could explain."

She pushed at his chest but he didn't budge, looming over her small frame. She narrowed her eyes. "I don't care anymore. I'm leaving."

She turned to go and his hand manacled her wrists, trapping them behind her back, holding her in place against his big body. "You are not leaving."

She glared at him, speaking through grit teeth, her anger irrational now. "What are you going to do? Tie me to your bed?"

His heated eyes looked into hers, his mouth snarling. "Not a bad idea."

"And it'd make me hate you even more. So if you really want to go down that road, just tell me already."

He stayed silent, boring her eyes with his blue ones, his pupils wide but considering her. After long minutes of waiting, she pulled on her hands and he released her. Going towards the door, she shook her head at him.

"You know," she spoke softly. "I had thought you were many things, Oliver, even a liar. But I never thought you were a coward. You proved me wrong."

The barb had to hit. She took slow steps towards the door, knowing he was going to stop her again, giving him time to. "I'm going to paint a bulls-eye on my head now. Let Ilyich take me. You used me years ago for your own reasons, and that's exactly what you are doing now, no matter how much you deny it. The people in my life seem to be proficient at that."

"Felicity."

His soft voice was the last thing she expected, especially after deliberately needling him like she had with insults she wan't sure were completely true anymore. She looked at him, standing, looking more resigned than she had ever seen him.

"Nothing you'll say is going to make me stay, Oliver," she told him firmly, her hand on the doorknob now.

He nodded, eyes on her, carefully watching her. "Not even the truth?"

She stilled, her eyes widening of their own accord. She took him in, standing there with his tight muscles slowly relaxing, like he had accepted the inevitable, made his peace with it, and his face completely open, like she had come to read it, honest. He meant it.

Just to reassure herself about it, she asked softly. "And what truth is that about?"

"About everything."

Holy expletives, her plan had worked. He was ready to talk.

He sat down on the couch, patting the seat beside him, and her heart started pounding suddenly. Whatever it was, Oliver had held off telling her for so long and he must have had a good reason. And she was going to finally hear it. Was she ready? Really ready? Would she ever be?

She kept her eyes on his reassuring gaze as he waited for her, and crossed the distance on legs that felt like lead. His face was slowly going blank, like she knew it did when he was telling someone something he didn't want to, and her heart was hammering at the thought as she took a seat, facing him.

He cracked his neck to the side once, pinning her with his eyes. And she waited, as ready as she would ever be.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
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	16. Cinders and Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!
> 
> So I say this every time but you do this every time so what can I do? YOU BLOW ME AWAY WITH THE SPECTACULAR RESPONSE TO THE LAST CHAPTER! I had not thought in my wildest dreams what monster this story would become and how amazingly you would all accept and welcome it! THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!
> 
> And to all the asks about me writing in one go : yes, I write every chapter of every story in one sitting only. I have never been able to write in installments since that really breaks my flow, so I do it all in one go, for every chapter. 
> 
> Also, I think I need to warn you. This chapter is burning things to the ground. It is angsty. Stuff happens. But have faith. Good times shall come once the past has been purged. I hope the mystery lives up to its anticipation and that you enjoy it. This is another one of the longer ones, though not as long as the last one.
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line with your thoughts. 
> 
> Happy reading!!!

Felicity fidgeted on the couch, blinking at Oliver as he took in deep breaths, her heart pounding. Whatever this truth was, Felicity knew it was bad. Like really bad. Like change her life forever kind of bad. She knew Oliver well enough to know that was the reason he had been so reluctant to tell her anything. She gave him the time to gather himself, the fact that he was doing so telling her this was not easy for him either.

Finally taking a deep breath, Oliver pinned her with his gaze, slowly taking a hold of her hand, linking their fingers together and she squeezed back softly, letting him take whatever strength he needed to talk.

"I need you to promise me something, Felicity," Oliver looked at her earnestly, his voice almost a whisper as the cool night air blew in the open windows, the soft light of the lamp softening his features.

She looked into his eyes, searching them. "How can I promise you something without knowing..."

"I know," he interrupted, tightening his hand over hers, his eyes, his voice beseeching. "Felicity, I need you to promise that you will not leave, not put yourself in danger after you know the truth. I will understand if you wish to get away from me. I will give you all the space you want. But please, don't leave."

Felicity blinked at him, her heart sinking. "For my safety?"

Oliver nodded. "For your safety."

Felicity considered him, looking at his honest, open face and nodded slowly. "Okay. But tell me everything, Oliver. No more lies."

Oliver's eyes closed and his head bent down before he slowly got up from the couch and walked to the window, gazing outside, lost in his own thoughts. Felicity watched his muscular side profile, her foot tapping on the floor nervously.

"The first time I killed a man with my bare hands, I was 17," he began, looking out into the darkness, into the darkness of his own past, his face haunted.

Felicity remembered the conversation she had had with Anatoly and nodded, muttering. "The Claw."

He turned to her in slight surprise and she explained. "Anatoly told me."

Oliver nodded, turning back to the window, looking out, seeing nothing but dark moonless grounds. "When my parents were murdered, I was a boy. I had hidden in the house when the men had come in and I saw them die right in front of me from where I had hidden. And I hadn't been able to do a thing, because I knew they would have killed me too. And I couldn't have let that happen. I couldn't have left Thea alone to survive in this world. She needed me. So I had stayed quiet and once the men had left, I had picked up Thea and left the house, knowing that I had to do the ugly things to protect ourselves. To never be that helpless again. I wasn't a boy anymore."

He paused and Felicity's heart clenched and her muscles ached with the need to go to him. To comfort him. She fisted her hands and waited, her heart throbbing for him. He had seen so, so much. He had survived so much, and he still had such a big heart, so full of love, so capable of love.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing that interrupting him would break whatever courage he had to speak. Him, the fearless leader of the Bratva, a man who was feared by so many men, was scared and she could see his trepidation on his face, and that, more than anything, was making her heart pound. Oliver was one of the most fearless men she knew and he was scared of something, she didn't know what. 

His hand came up to the windowsill and he gripped it in his hand, taking another deep breath and continuing. "I joined the Bratva soon after, and we shifted to a new house, where I rehired Raisa. I started doing small jobs for the brotherhood, knowing that one day soon I would have to kill. I had just never thought it would be so soon. I had not thought it would be for Thea."

Felicity blinked in surprise, looking at his frame as he bent his head again, just speaking loud enough for her to hear. "I was almost in my third year in the Bratva when I heard rumors about this man, The Claw, who was one of the most trained, experienced fighters of the brotherhood. And though I had been training consistently for years, I knew I was no match for him. Until one day, he saw Thea."

A gasp left Felicity, her heart sinking lower but he plowed on. "Thea was barely a teenager and this man was already speaking about her in a way that made my blood boil, but I knew I couldn't take him on so I just bore it and started doing my research on him."

Oliver turned to her this time, his eyes so anguished they made her breath hitch. "That was the first time I heard the name 'Ilyich'."

Felicity looked at him in surprise but waited patiently for him to complete his story, her pulse racing. "The Claw had wanted Thea for himself, so he came after her one day, and that was the day I killed him. With my bare hands. My rage covered for my inexperience. I killed him and I got to know I had killed the right hand man of Ilyich. Ilyich's best inside man in the Bratva, all because he had wanted my sister."

Felicity gulped, truly understanding for the first time the kind of danger Oliver and his family lived in everyday. "So, Ilyich is after me because of that?"

Oliver's mouth twisted slightly but he shook his head, now completely turned to her, looking at her as she sat on the couch. on edge, waiting for him to elaborate.

"No."

A frown marred her forehead. "Then?"

Oliver inhaled again and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the windowsill. "Something about the man did not sit right with me. And since I had trusted my instincts completely, I decided to follow up on the man. And for years, I tried to find him, anything about him, while rising in the Bratva." His mouth curled in a snarl. "Apparently, killing The Claw had earned me some sort of a status."

The self-loathing in his voice was apparent. "A few years later, I realized who Ilyich was and who his new connection in the brotherhood was."

He looked at Felicity, piercing her with his gaze. "Ilyich is a monster, a ghost that nobody has seen except a few. He is also the biggest dealer of drugs and humans in the world. And his new right hand man in the Bratva was Viktor Orlov."

Felicity's heart stopped and she got up to her feet, looking at him in disbelief. "You're saying my father was dealing under the table with Ilyich all those years ago?"

Oliver pursed his mouth and nodded. She opened her mouth to retort when she stopped herself. No. She had asked for the truth and she wanted to know whatever he had to say before cutting it out.

Oliver cracked his neck to the side and spoke. "I started gathering evidence to dismantle him from the position, to destroy the entire operation from the inside, making that my sole objective. Three years ago, I finally got in. Your father invited me to your house, and I went, knowing this would be the final step before I could tear apart the entire operation."

Felicity's eyes widened as his own softened at her, his mouth curling up slightly. "I had done my research, and I was prepared to go to any lengths to put a stop to those dealings. And then I bumped into you." His eyes stared into space, a soft smile curving his mouth before his eyes came back to her. "I admit I had planned it to get a tracker in your phone, but then you had opened your mouth and I had found myself being surprised for the first time in a very, very long time. And I had known, in that moment, that I wanted you."

Her heart hammered as her breaths sped up, remembering that meeting, staring into the same eyes now. He took a few steps towards her, brushing the the hair away from her face with his fingers. "I had wanted you and I had told you so in the heat of the moment. But then I had gone to my room, and I had realized I couldn't really pull you into it for some reason. So I had tried to keep my distance. But you, солнешко, wouldn't keep yours. You would pop up and collide with me and I would start fighting myself all over again."

His thumb was slowly caressing her cheek and she stood still, just craning her neck up at him. "And then remember that dinner?"

Felicity blinked. "The footsie one?"

His mouth curved a little. "Yeah. You took that step and I couldn't resist you anymore. I wanted you and I had work to do. So I thought I would use your relationship with your father to get him to back down, and then when I told you the truth, you would perhaps forgive me."

His eyes clenched shut and he took a step back, removing his hand from her face. "I swear to you Felicity, I had never wanted to hurt you. I had really believed that once I told you everything, you would forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you."

Felicity's heart clenched as she remembered that pain of standing outside that door that day, the pain she had made her companion for three years. "You just wanted to use me."

Oliver looked down, almost seemingly ashamed, before he faced her again. "I am your culprit, Felicity. I was so, so foolish. Getting your father down from his position had been my mission since I had found out about it, and I had no idea how badly you would be hurt when you found out. You were never supposed to find out like that, Felicity."

Felicity swallowed against the tears she could feel in her throat and clenched her jaw. "So, basically you were on your mission to remove my evil father from being more evil and using me was a way of making that happen and I was never supposed to know about it the way I did? That is what you are saying?"

His throat worked as he exhaled heavily. "Yes."

She huffed out a desperate laugh. "Not good enough, Oliver. I remember every word from that day. And everything you said is not something I can excuse for your seemingly noble intentions. You treated me like trash."

Oliver's mouth tightened as his head bent again and he looked up, his eyes begging. "I know. And I cannot tell you how sorry I am, солнешко."

Ignoring the pang in her chest and his words, she nodded at him to continue. He searched her eyes for long minutes, eyes that she knew would be hard for now, before sighing. "But you heard half of what I had planned. And you had me leave with threats I knew you meant before I could even begin to explain anything to you. And I knew you wouldn't have believed me had I told you then. So I left."

"But you didn't really, did you?"

He shook his head slowly. "Not really. After leaving from the house, I admit I kept a keen eye on not only what your father was doing, gathering evidence covertly but on you as well."

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief, wrapping her arms around herself. "You're telling me you kept an eye on me for three years?"

Oliver blew through his mouth. "Yes, I did. I had to make sure you did not speak to your father but also because I was hooked, Felicity. You had hooked me. I waited and waited for someone to know about what I had planned, but you never said anything. You had never outed me to anyone. You had surprised me yet again, солнешко." 

Felicity swallowed, trying to remember why she had not said anything. Why hadn't she? She didn't know.

Oliver's face hardened and he continued. "In the meantime, your father, after I left, got in very deep with Ilyich. I cannot tell you how deep but just know it was a very precarious place. He was going deep in debt with the man. And I was gathering proof, knowing that it was going to blow up in his face soon enough. It did. I just never realized it would almost blow up in mine too."

She blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Oliver took a deep breath, pinning her with his intense eyes, apologetic eyes, and spoke. "I waited patiently for three years to out your father. I had all the evidence I needed finally to challenge his position, and I knew you would hate me but I was ready to work for your forgiveness, ready to tell you the entire truth. Everything. I never wanted to keep anything from you, Felicity. But..."

He hesitated, pausing and Felicity gulped, keeping her eyes on his. "What happened, Oliver?" she whispered, knowing something terrible had.

Oliver gazed back at her for long seconds, just taking in her face, before his breath left him in a sigh and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Oh shit. This was bad.

"I had kept my eyes right on your father, and I was getting ready to move in on him, when I got to know he had found a way to clear his debts, once and for all."

Felicity's heart pounded in her chest, the blood leaving her face, her body slowly starting to shake, the pieces from what he had told her falling together, making an eerie kind of sense.

No. No. No.

What she was thinking was impossible. No.

She shook her head, her eyes widening, denying what she knew in her gut was the truth now. But his eyes looked back at her with so much regret that she knew.

"Say it, Oliver," she said, her mouth trembling.

Oliver's eyes were so truly pained for her, she knew how much he hated doing this, why he had been keeping this from her.

"Your father sold you to Ilyich."

Her legs gave away beneath her and she crumpled on the couch, her hands coming at her sides to grip the cushions, her eyes blankly looking on a spot on the ground.

Her father had sold her.

Her father had _sold_ her.

To repay his debts. The man she had trusted since being born had betrayed her in a manner she could never have fathomed.

She blinked up at Oliver, the tears running tracks down her cheeks, her jaw trembling with the need to scream but containing it. "He sold me?"

Oliver was suddenly in front of her on his knees, taking a hold of her hands in his, making her realize how badly her hands were shaking as she looked down at him. "Felicity."

"Tell me, Oliver," her voice croaked out, her desperation getting to her. 

He bent his head to her knees and breathed in deeply before looking back at her. "Yes. He did."

A small cry escaped her chest before she could stop it and Oliver's hands tightened on hers, squeezing it, his eyes as equally pained as hers, his hand vices, trying to reassure her as much as he could.

Her mouth trembled again and she beseeched him with her eyes to continue, unable to get her throat to work, unable to speak.

Understanding her need to know, he did. "I was so livid when I found out what your father had done. And my rage consumed me. The need to destroy Orlov battled with the need to keep you safe. And once I calmed down slightly, I knew I couldn't let it happen. So, I went to your father with most of the evidence that I had and offered to trade it for your safety. Marrying you seemed to be the only way I could get you away from that house and under my own protection. And I knew you would despise me for it, but keeping you safe was more important than any of that, солнешко."

"So basically, you brought me from my father too?"

His eyes softened at her whispered words and he shook his head. "No, Felicity. I didn't buy you. You are a woman, a very smart, beautiful woman, and not an object. What I did was the only thing I could do in a situation I had no control of, as quickly as I could, to keep that monster from taking you. It was the only way I could see, Felicity."

Not appeased by his words, her insides crumbling, destroying her, she nodded and straightened her spine, pulling her hands away from his, needing suddenly to be on her own right now in her misery. "Thank you for telling me, Oliver. But I need to be alone for some time."

With those words, ignoring his pained expression, she stood on leaden legs and walked out of the room without looking back, and closed the door behind her. Once outside, she started running to the bedroom, the tears a torrent now, not caring if anybody even saw her but no one did, the need to be alone and cry out like she wanted to hurting her physically. She entered the room and slammed the door shut behind her, heading straight for the bathroom. The moment she looked at herself in the mirror, her knees shook and she crumpled to the floor in a heap, finally letting out the sobs wracking her entire body, the cries coming straight from her gut. 

Her tears flowed torrential now and she shook violently, the sounds she made alone in the bathroom making her cry even more. Memories assaulted her. Memories from when she had been a little girl and her father would bring her a new trinket, smiling at the way she always dripped her ice cream, laughing when he tickled her into submission. Memories from her adolescence, how he used to shake his head fondly at her, ruffle her hair when she got annoyed, let her steal whatever computer pats she wanted from his office. Memories of the fights and arguments they had, how he would sigh resignedly and then apologize with a small smile and small ruffle of her hair. She gripped her hair now, bellowing out in pain.

How could this have happened? Had she been so unimportant? So disposable? What were all those years, all those memories for? Her father, the man she had looked up to most of her life, had sold her like a piece of meat? To a fucking butcher? And the man she had hated for three years for breaking her heart had stepped in and saved her from god knows what fate that had awaited her? Who was she supposed to hate now? How was she supposed to go on feeling like this? She felt so, so alone.

And the thought made another cry wrench from deep inside her as she pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around it, making herself as small as possible, letting everything from the last three years pour out in a way it never had before. Her father had sold her and her husband had saved her from that. She realized belatedly this was exactly why Oliver had not been telling her. He had known it would destroy her. He had known she would be ruined knowing this.

She heard him come outside in the bedroom and she sobbed harder, the sounds unstoppable now. What did she even feel anymore? She knew his behavior in the past was not excused despite his good intentions. He had used her. But now, whatever progress they had made? What was she supposed to do now? 

Her body shook and she hiccuped, needing air in between. She had cursed Oliver for the better part of half a decade and he had deserved it, but what would her life be like right now had he not done what he did? If it had been up to her father, she would be long gone by now. Gone with a man who traded with humans. She would have been raped, sold to other men, raped again. And what else? She could not deny that barbaric as it was, and this world was barbaric much to her rage, Oliver had pulled her out from the clutches of a mad man. She didn't know what to think anymore. She was in a state of flux and she needed to anchor herself. And right now, deep in her gut, she knew the one person she could trust even minutely was Oliver. Yes he had told her the truth after coercion, but in fear for her own safety. He had offered her as much space as she wanted, knowing exactly how she would feel. 

But he hadn't known or he would be here, letting her feel anything but alone, anything but this agony. 

Knowing he was right outside, his comfort she knew he would offer in the blink of an eye so within reach, she opened her mouth, hiccuping again, and sobbed out. "Oliver?"

The door to the bathroom opened almost instantly, like he had been right outside, and he looked inside, his eyes landing on her, the agony she saw in them almost as real as she felt inside herself. He sat down before her on his haunches, his hand coming up to touch her but pausing, hovering in air.

"Tell me what you need, Felicity," he implored urgently, his own eyes so pained. "Tell me what I can do."

She couldn't stop the cry that tore from her as she launched herself into his chest, holding on to him tightly, circling her arms around him completely, burying herself into his chest. His arms came up around her immediately as he sat down on the floor, pulling her into him completely, softly rubbing her back and pressing small kisses to her hair as she sobbed into his chest, letting everything out, soaking his shirt but he didn't seem to care, just letting her vent.

"I'm so sorry, Felicity," he whispered into her hair, his voice devastated. "I'm so sorry. So sorry."

He kept repeating it, over and over again, apologizing for her pain, some which he had caused, some which he hadn't, but he kept apologizing, tattooing it on her skin.

"Keep me here, Oliver. Don't let go," she muttered into his chest, clutching onto him. 

His arms tightened around her as he pulled her closer, "I'm here, Felicity. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."

She didn't know how long they sat there, like that, and how long he let her cry on him. But after a very, very long time, finally, drained completely of both tears and energy, she pulled back slightly, and looked up at him, her eyes puffed and her face red, still shaking a bit. He raised his hand to her face and wiped away her tears slowly, brushing her cheeks with his rough fingers.

"Who else knew?" she asked, her voice hoarse and throat aching from all the crying. 

Oliver held her jaw in his hand, looking at her face before speaking softly. "No one. No one else except you father and I."

"Not even Anatoly?" she croaked out.

Oliver looked back at her with that soft expression, brushing his thumb over her cheeks in a gesture that was surprisingly soothing. "You think Anatoly would let your father breathe if he knew what he had done?"

Felicity's eyes lowered, looking at his throat. "I don't know what to think anymore."

There was silence for a beat before his hand pulled her face back up to his, his eyes earnest. "Anatoly loves you more than any father could love a child, Felicity. I have always known that. He had no idea. I'm sure he still doesn't."

"I thought my father loved me too," Felicity muttered, picking on the button of his shirt, keeping her eyes lowered. "He doesn't apparently."

Oliver pulled her into him again, offering no false platitudes and she was grateful for it. At least it proved he was being honest. 

"Nobody in my family knows?" she asked again, pulling back and picking on his button again.

"No," he whispered softly, reassuringly.

"And here? Who knows here?"

Oliver brushed her hair back with his fingers. "Only I know, Felicity."

She looked up in surprise, blinking puffed eyes. "Not even Digg?"

Oliver sighed, looking slightly at a spot beyond her shoulder. "He knows about your father's involvement with Ilyich but not about what he did. I didn't think you'd want anybody to know."

She nodded, relieved at that before her brows furrowed. "Wait, if that's true, then why does he think we got married?"

Oliver's lips curled slightly at that and his eyes bore into hers. "He knows how much I wanted you three years ago. He knows how I kept tabs on you, so he just thinks it's a natural progression for this to culminate into a marriage."

Felicity sighed, gulping. "So Ilyich tried to kidnap me because?"

Oliver's face hardened, his lips thinning. "Because it hurt his pride that he could not have you. He doesn't go back on his deals apparently."

"And he tried to kill me?"

"It seems that way, yes."

Felicity pulled back on his button, distracting her mind by focusing on it.

"Hey."

Her eyes drifted up at his soft voice, locking with the blue. "I won't let anything happen to you, Felicity."

The certainty in his gaze was reassuring and she tilted her head, considering him. "Why?"

He frowned. "Why what?"

"Why won't you let anything happen to me? Why even do any of this for me?"

His thumb stopped on her cheek. The silence between them was suddenly loaded after her question as their gazes clashed, locking together. She saw that same thing in his eyes she couldn't name sometimes, the same thing that made her breath hitch and almost fear his answer. No. She couldn't hear whatever he had to say today. Not right now.

Oliver just stared back at her, speaking in his low voice. "I think we both know you are not ready for that answer yet, солнешко."

Her heart thumped in her chest and she looked back down at his button, needing to erase this tension from between them, this tight tension that just threatened to snap any moment.

"What happens now?" she asked, changing the topic.

Oliver's eyes saw through her clearly but he replied. "Depends on you, Felicity."

She blinked in confusion and he sighed, suddenly looking vulnerable, not a word she would ever associate with him. "Would you like me to leave?"

She looked at him and slowly shook her head, his breath of relief ghosting over her face, making her realize how tightly he was wound up as well.

"Do you want me to move back to the couch?"

No, she did not. She might not like him very much but she couldn't kill the messenger. In the entire story, he had done nothing but fight on her side, albeit without telling her of the battles, yet that was exactly how this world on Bratva operated, and she knew he had had to operate within it, for her. She did hold what happened three years ago against him, and he had not quite earned her forgiveness completely, but not for anything else. He had come clean in the end.

"No," she said in response and felt his body relax slightly.

He nodded. "What do you want me to do, Felicity?"

She scrutinized him, his sincerity, and asked. "You'd do whatever I asked of you?"

She felt him tense again, like preparing for a blow, but he nodded. "Anything."

A small smile trembled on her mouth and she gazed at him. "Don't ever lie to me again, Oliver. No hiding anything from me."

His relief was so palpable it was ridiculous. He leaned forward, brushing his mouth on her head, branding his words on her skin. "I promise."

Nodding, she pulled back and tried to get up, her limbs still shaky, not having completely processed everything yet. Oliver got up in a swift motion, extending his hand for her to take. Felicity stared at the hand for a long moment, just blinking at it, before slowly taking what he offered. He pulled her up and let her stand, squeezing her hand once.

"I'll give you few minutes to freshen up, okay?" he said, taking a step back. 

She nodded, letting go and turning to the mirror, watching him leave and close the door behind him. She looked up at her reflection, unable to recognize her own self. She was a wreck. How had he sat there and not said anything was beyond her. Her hair was tangled around her face from where she had gripped it over and over again, her eyes bloated and swollen like she had been punched, her face ashen except her cheeks which were flushed, her lips bitten to an inch of her life. She looked like a disaster warmed over.

Shaking her head, she splashed her face with cold water, cleaning up the mess the best she could, untangling her hair with a brush and changing into his shirt she had gotten in the shower earlier. By the time she was done, she looked slightly better. She felt slightly better, the shock and the grief transforming into slow rage, not gone completely yet. Her heart still hurt as soon as she thought of what her father had done. Oliver had been right. This destroyed the relationship she had had with her father completely.

Taking a deep breath, she exited the bathroom, switching off the light behind her and walked into the bedroom to see Oliver on his side of the bed, sitting up, still fully clothed, waiting for her.

She saw how skittish he looked, like waiting for her to tell him off and she sighed, pointing to his clothes. "Change."

He looked at her in slight surprise and she rolled her eyes. What had he thought? His bare skin would trigger her waterworks again? Or she would look at him and think of the monster who was Ilyich?

He got up from the bed, quickly shedding his clothes while she settled in on her side of the bed, coming over to stand beside her side for a second. She looked up at him, at his intense eyes, and he raised a finger to her cheek, brushing it down to her jaw, as though savoring the feel of her skin, before pulling away and getting in to his own side of the bed hesitantly.

Once he was settled, turned on his side facing her, she turned to face him, just looking at him for a long time. The pain he had felt for her, was still feeling for her, astounded her. The same man who had walked over her trust had done something for her that would have made her trust him way quicker had he told her in the beginning. But he hadn't. For her. To let her have the happiness of knowing she had a good father. False happiness. At the cost of his own relationship with her, which she knew was important to him, he had hidden the ugly truth from her to save her this heartache.

He should have told her, but what was important was he did.

"Thank you," she whispered between them, staring into those blue, blue orbs.

"I didn't do anything, Felicity," he responded just as softly.

She sighed. "For telling me the truth, late as it was. What happened three years ago is much clearer but I still cannot excuse you, Oliver. Try as I may."

His eyes closed and he nodded. "I know."

"You took the situation completely out of my hands," she went on, seeing the way he was tensing up slightly, bracing himself. "But I understand why you couldn't have told me. To be honest, I wouldn't have a believed a word of what you said two months ago. So, thank you, for getting me out from what my father did. I don't completely agree with it, but I understand. Had you told me sooner though, I could have helped you stop him."

She breathed in once before he could respond. "How do we stop Ilyich now?"

He looked at her. "I have a lot of evidence that may lead to him. You could look at it tomorrow if you like?"

She nodded. "I'm helping in whatever way I can now. You have stopped me long enough. Not anymore." 

His eyes closed and opened and his gaze drilled hers, his voice intense. "I'm so, _so sorry_ , for everything, Felicity."

"I know you are."

He stayed silent, away from her, and she did too, turning on her back, looking up at the mirror, seeing them reflected back, the distance between them glaring. She felt his gaze on her face, and a soft, very low whisper reached her.

"Please don't hate me, Felicity."

The fear in his voice cut through her and she turned to see him. His expression mirrored his voice. Seeing this strong, fearless man reduced to this vulnerability made her heart clench and she closed the distance between them, winding her arms around him and tucking herself in the warm cocoon of his body as his hands came tentatively around her.

"I don't hate you, Oliver," she muttered into his chest and heard his breath stutter before he crushed her in his embrace, burying his face in her hair, a small shiver wracking his body. 

Whatever this man had done, he was not faking this. He was not lying. She knew that deep in her bones now. 

"I haven't forgiven you yet, but I don't hate you," she told him again, with more firmness in her voice, listening to his pounding heart under her ear. 

He whispered something softly in Russian that she couldn't catch. 

Closing her eyes on the devastating day it had been, she breathed him in, comforted deep down in the knowledge that come what may, he would still be there. If anything, he had proven it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
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	17. Scalded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Firstly, I'm so sorry for being slightly late on the update. I know it's technically a Saturday in most parts of the world but my day was sooooo crazy, and this is another 7-8Kish long one, I was literally up all night writing this one for you peeps, because you are awesome!
> 
> Secondly, I haven't been able to reply to any comments on the previous chapter and I am so very sorry about that. I will as soon as I can though. Your comments are so, so precious to me!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one. It's a little lighter, with some more bonding for our babies. And obviously stuff happens too.
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line with your thoughts. I love to hear from you!
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> Happy reading!!!

Felicity looked at her husband, thinking.

Last night, Felicity had broken down. She had been feeling so many things that she could not have named, drowning in so many emotions, coming apart at the seams, adrift. Her only anchor had been Oliver, the man who had lied to her for ages seemingly to save her from destroying herself, a man who had married her because that had been the only protection her could offer her in this cruel world. And boy, was this world cruel! 

Last night, she had not been able to name what she had been felling, logic had been no part of last night. But since she had woken up this morning, logic was dominating her.

Oliver had been awake when she had woken up, but his eyes had been closed and his breathing had been soft. He had lain there, tracing her spine like she knew he enjoyed doing and she had let him, because that gesture had soothed her just like it had after Roy had been hurt. He had not spoken, giving her the time and space to process, to react and she had to admit she appreciated the control he was giving her. Lying there on the bed, looking at his face, she had let herself look at everything rationally and let herself process. So, her father had sold her to a human piece of shit and the man she had hated for so long had saved her, even knowing that he would never tell her this and knowing that she may never forgive him. And though she still hadn't completely, she had to admit that being on the receiving end of his selflessness was overwhelming.

Oliver Queen had used her in the past, by his own admission, yet he seemed bent on making that up to her, despite of knowing that he may never could. And that, for some reason, was why she could not bring herself to hate him even though she wanted to. Looking back on the last few months, since the wedding, she could now clearly see with her logical mind what she had not been able to see through her emotional one. Oliver had, over and over again, given up his most prized possession to her in the course of their marriage- his control. Oh, he had been keeping things from her for sure, but looking at his own history, she could understand it. Why would a man who had seen his own parents die so brutally as a boy and had nothing but memories of them want to ruin her relationship with her very alive father? Despite of hiding things, he had given up as much control to her as he could. He had not forced her into doing anything she hadn't wanted to do, except marry her obviously. 

She knew he was no paragon of virtue. She knew he was more flawed than most men she knew. She knew that he still had to earn her forgiveness for what he did in the past. But she also knew one more thing now. Misplaced as his intentions were, Oliver Queen was not a bad man. And right now, she trusted him more than she had thought she ever could. 

She softly raised her hand, needing that contact with him, because she was not afraid to admit that yes, he was anchoring her from flying off the deep end, and softly traced his eyebrow, like she had the night he had had his nightmare. His slight frown cleared and she frowned, thinking. 

"How often do you have nightmares?" she whispered softly, keeping her fingers up and tracing his face like he was tracing the line of her spine. 

"Almost every other night," his voice rasped back, roughened in the morning from disuse and she nestled in closer to him, tangling their bare legs together. 

"But you haven't had any for almost a week," Felicity noted and his eyes opened, considering her. He remained quiet, just watching her, and she swallowed with the implication heavy in the silence. 

"You aren't saying it's because you're sleeping with me, are you?" she voiced out, in disbelief. "I mean platonically."

He raised one annoying eyebrow and leveled her with his blue eyes. "I'm not saying anything." And then his hand stopped on her hip, pulling her forward into him even more. "And this is anything but platonic, солнешко."

She gulped, his gaze combined with their proximity making her tingle in places, and changed the subject quickly. "Why do you call me that?"

A soft smile curved his lips and he blinked back at her. "You remember the first thing you said to me?"

Felicity flushed. Of course she remembered. "It was an unfiltered babble featuring walls and erections. God, I was so embarrassed."

Oliver chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You didn't have to be. When I had come to your house, all I had known about Felicity Smoak was that she was the genius, single daughter of one of the most powerful men in the Bratva. And I had seen so many women till then. You can imagine the kind of image I had already had in my head."

Felicity nodded, so glad that he was opening up to her about a time she knew had been different for both of them, and listened. 

"But then I bumped into you. And the last thing I had expected was... you." He smiled a little more at her confusion and shrugged. "You went on and on about walls and erections and I was entranced. You were beautiful, yes. But there was this... radiance to you that hooked me. I had seen so much darkness, Felicity. And there you were, under me, just speaking without a thought to what you were saying and it was so refreshing."

His hand left her hip, coming up to her face, brushing her jaw softly. "You were so bright, солнешко. And so small. You were a personification of sunshine. And I was a moth. So drawn to that brightness. Still am."

Felicity's breath hitched, her stomach turning with butterflies and she bit her lip. Oliver's eyes drifted to her mouth briefly and he closed his eyes. "I tried to avoid you so much, Felicity. Not only because I was going to use you, but I didn't want anything to tarnish that brightness you had. Not even I." A rueful smile curved his mouth. "And yet I did. And I know you may never forgive me for it, but I can't blame you, because neither can I."

The self-hatred in his voice made her stomach clench. This man hated himself for what he had done way more than she could ever hate him. This man deserved her not forgiving him but he worked so hard to earn it, slowly. Reminding herself of his words to her a few nights ago, she looked at his face, at his closed eyes, and asked herself that after everything, everything that he had told her and everything that she knew, with nothing hidden between them anymore, what would she regret? 

And she knew, with blinding clarity, what she would. Decision made, she softly moved closer to him, without hesitation, and pressed her lips to his. His eyes opened in surprise and he pulled back, looking at her carefully, like she had grown two heads, and she rolled her eyes at him, pulling his face closer again and pressing their mouths together, closing her eyes, feeling his soft lips and scruff against her own. Stubborn man that he was, he remained absolutely unmoving and tensed beside her, not opening his mouth, or kissing her back or anything and she sighed, pulling back.

"Felicity," he whispered, right against her mouth, his voice holding a warning she had no intention of heeding.

"Kiss me, Oliver," she murmured softly, right against his mouth. "Kiss me, because whatever happened, we'll get over it slowly. There is a very long road ahead of us and I have no intention of walking it on my own. So, you want my forgiveness? Make me feel it."

"I don't want you to regret anything," he said softly, looking into her eyes.

She looked back with absolute certainty. She felt something for him, even though she was not ready to have that conversation with herself yet. But she knew she trusted him, and more importantly she knew he would not break it again. He had just proved it last night by telling her the truth. So with that certainty, she replied, "I won't."

He looked at her for another minute, measuring her response, before leaning in slowly, almost like he was giving her time to pull away, and brushed their lips together. A small shiver raced down her spine and she pulled his head closer, pressing their mouths together more firmly. And while he pecked her lips, he was still not kissing her like he used to, like she knew he was capable of. 

Annoyed, she pushed at his chest, glaring at him. "You don't want to kiss me, just say so. I'm not going to force myself on you."

With that, she turned away to get out of bed, ready to just show him the finger and escape to the bathroom. She never made it to the edge of the bed. Before she had even completely turned, she was on her back with a very big, very muscular Oliver on top of her, holding her hands down beside her head. 

"Don't want to kiss you?" he growled, his face just an inch from hers. "God, I ache with the need to taste you almost every second of the day. I've wanted you for so long," he spoke, nipping at her jaw, planting kisses on her neck, "so fucking long, that ache has become a part of my day."

He softly kissed her throat, making her tilt her head back at the sensation, making her eyes open and she gasped. She could see them on the mirror. See how his broad, muscular scarred back completely obliterated her body from the reflection, how his head was moving along her neck and her hands were pressed beside her head by his large ones. She could see her own self, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her legs, so much paler to his skin, opened beside his thighs and the image they made made her head spin.

"Not kiss you?" he muttered again. "The need to take you, just like this, hurts me so much. The need to taste your skin, to feel you, kills me every time I even look at you, Felicity. But I don't deserve any of that."

His words gave her pause and she looked at his head. "Look at me, Oliver."

He raised himself up and looked down at her, his eyes so full of regret her heart ached for him. 

"I get to decide what you deserve from me," she spoke firmly, needing him to understand this. He nodded, his eyes looking away. 

"And I decide," she spoke in a softer tone now, "that I want you to kiss me. Prove to me that you want me."

His eyes locked with hers, heating, and he came down, freeing her hands and slanting his mouth over hers, licking along the seam of her lips, making her open her mouth on a soft moan. He didn't take another second, plunging his tongue inside her mouth, tangling it with hers, exploring it completely. 

She couldn't recognize the sounds she was making, arching closer to his body, feeling his rough and scarred skin under her fingers, doing her own exploring. And while he was kissing her, he still kept his body way above hers, not allowing her to feel him like she knew he would. She tried to pull him down but he didn't budge an inch, just kissing her with that ferocity only he was capable of. Slowly, knowing she would have to break him, she traced a hand over his strong forearm beside her, tugging at it. He shifted his weight on one arm, like the crazy strong man that he was, and let her take his hand, seeing what she would do, while intently sipping at her lips. She pulled his hand up and brought it right above her cotton covered breast, feeling the way his breath hitched when she did. 

After a moment of hesitation (and who the hell hesitated when they had a handful of a woman's boob?) he attacked her mouth with a vengeance she had never felt from him, massaging her breast and rubbing his thumb over her nipple, which was rapidly hardening. He pulled and tugged and moaned, making her ache in places she never had before, loud mewling noises coming from her mouth as she writhed against him, feeling his own hardness against her center. 

After minutes and minutes of tasting him, gloriously making out with her husband for the first time, the tenor of the kiss changed, becoming softer, more languid. Slowly, pecking her mouth once, twice, he pulled back, breathing heavily, looking down at her. 

"Let's not take it any further right now if you want me to live, okay?" he said softly, holding his weight on his arms.

She blinked and mock widened her eyes. "Oh shit. You've successfully discovered my plan to kill you!"

A chuckle left him at that and he pecked her again before heaving himself up and off the bed, the dent in the front of his boxers very, very evident. He looked at her from head to toe, his smile getting softer, and he exhaled loudly, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, was this a one time time thing? I don't want to you feel pressured or forced into anything."

"Get over yourself, Oliver," she said getting down from the bed and heading to the bathroom. "We kissed because I wanted it. If you are going to feel so guilty about it every time, I'll just find someone else to..."

A hand on her hand spun her around before she could complete her sentence, another going into her hair and gripping her head, tilting it up. His possessiveness burned through his eyes as he looked down at her. "I'm giving you everything you want and everything I can. You take as much time as you want and I will wait for you. And I know you will never cheat on me, but know this, Felicity. Even the thought of you with another man burns my blood. The need to claim you burns my blood. You are mine and in your heart you know that."

Her heart pounded but she raised her eyebrows, finally addressing the one issue they had had for a long time between them. "Really? Why should it burn you when I had just been a virgin you had planned on seducing? And it had never mattered to you what I did after you were gone?"

She stepped in closer. "So what does it matter, Oliver? Why does it matter how many lovers I've had or the men I have kissed and will kiss when it never bothered you in the first place? I'm not yours. I never was. Because it never bothered you."

His blue eyes drilled hers as he kept her at the spot. "It always bothered me, Felicity," he said quietly. 

She scoffed, turning her head away. "I don't believe that for a second. I heard what you said to Digg that day, Oliver. You were planning on using my inexperience against me and leaving me to the wind."

"That had never been my plan," he said in the same quiet voice. 

"I heard what you said to..."

_"I lied, Felicity!"_ he said loudly, turning her face back to his, and she looked at him wide-eyed, surprised to see him so unhinged. " _I fucking lied._ You know why? Because I was an idiot. I had no idea what the hell was happening to me so when Digg put me on spot, I panicked and I lied. I told him what I wanted to believe myself- that I would use you and leave you and you would move on. I knew it wasn't true. I knew, even then, there would be no leaving you behind. Because I craved you. God, I _craved_ you, and not only physically. Just sitting with you listening to you talk about something I had no interest or understanding of brightened my days. So, yes, Felicity. I had planned on seducing you but not for the sole purpose of using you. I had wanted to do that just because. Because you made me feel better just by being. And I panicked because you were not supposed to happen. And I never, in the whole world, wanted you to listen to any of that."

Felicity blinked at him, her heart pounding hard at his words, at the complete transparency in his eyes. "But," she stuttered. "But you said..."

He shrugged and whispered. "I lied and I'm sorry."

"You should not have spoken about me like that," she spoke back.

He nodded. "I know."

Felicity exhaled deeply, nodding and took a step back. Or tried to. His hands kept her in place. 

"Oliver," she began but he shook his head, looking slightly panicked.

"Felicity, I know I did wrong and I know that I deserve it but please don't take a step back," he whispered, his eyes pleading. "Not now. Not after last night, or this morning. I just..."

She sighed, shaking her head and his eyes went full on the panic, thinking she was rejecting him. "Felicity, I..."

She took a hold of his face in her hands and looked sternly at him. "Oliver, I need you to relax. If there is going to be any panicking right now, it's going to come from me, and only me. I need you to calm down."

He took a deep breath and she continued. "I'm not running away, Oliver. And you need to stop thinking I will. But this all is a lot and I need some space to process it. I'm not pushing you away. In fact, to be honest, I need you right now. In a platonic way. Despite of the amazing kissing. And no, I don't regret it before you ask. But I need some space, okay?"   


He nodded slowly, letting her take a few steps back. "I am sorry, Felicity."

"I know you are, Oliver," she replied. "And that is the only reason I am even standing here right now, much less everything else."

He exhaled loudly, and she headed back towards the bathroom speaking. "So, once we freshen up, separately, I want you to show me what you have on Ilyich. I have a meeting in town in the evening but I think we can work on it till then."

"Okay. I'll see you downstairs."

Hearing his reply, she went in and shut the door, taking her space. She had a lot to process.

  


                                                       -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

  


Oh, had she been wrong or what. She had _a lot_ to process. 

She was sitting in the Bentley, heading back home from The Plaza from her meeting. It was already dark outside but since Roy had been shot the evening of her previous appointment, her meeting with the Summers brothers had to be rescheduled and tonight had been the only available time. And since Roy had been shot, Ivan, her new and quiet bodyguard, was driving her. She looked out at the passing scene, letting her mind process. And she was coming to hate that term.

After having breakfast, she had gone in to check on Roy, who had been awake and talking with Thea. They had both looked up as she entered and their eyes had widened before an evil glint had come in their eyes. Roy had cleared his throat and Thea had asked in a very pointed tone. "So, how was your morning, Felicity?"

Roy had coughed a laugh and Felicity had looked back, confused but before she could ask, Roy had changed the topic and they had talked for a while before Felicity had left to go to Oliver's study, getting a slightly raised eyebrow from Diggle. And she had had no idea what had been up with these people that morning. Till she entered the study and Oliver had turned to see her, his eyes slightly heating. And she had been clueless for the reason for that heat. She had been wearing a summery dress, nothing out of the ordinary and nothing revealing. So unless he had been taking a trip down the memory lane, there had been nothing to heat up about.

"Does it hurt?" he had asked, his voice husky. 

Felicity had frowned in confusion. "Does what hurt?"

"Your face?"

She had frowned even more. "Why would my face hurt?"

He had tilted his head at her before his lips had turned up at the corners, amusement entering his eyes. "You have no idea, do you?"

Annoyed, she had just scowled at him and he had laughed, pointing to her face. "You have beard burns everywhere, солнешко."

Her face still heated in the car, remembering. She had avoided looking at the mirror in the morning because of the memory of the dang mirror on the ceiling, and her face had felt a little heated but she had chalked it down to nothing. So idiotic of her. 

Mortified, she had snapped a "Yeah, whose fault is that?" before sitting down and glaring at him, changing the topic straight to Ilyich. Oliver had sobered, getting a dozen files for her, and giving them to her, talking simultaneously, explaining how he got each one, how he had kept his focus on her father specifically, knowing he was the inside man for Ilyich.

They had scrounged through each file together, and she had noted down the littlest of details she had thought had been important to piece on any kind of trace on the man. She had also discovered from Oliver that Ilyich was the man's middle name, and his actual name was unknown. And in Russians, the middle name made the chances of finding him like a needle in a haystack. But she was good at finding people.

So she had listed down all the places that the transactions had hit over the last three years, with her father and anyone else that Oliver had information about, and started a trace on her office computer to compile all the security footage and any other information for each of them. If she could get a face from any of them, it would be worth all the effort of going through the data. And Oliver had told her that for months now, his new objective had not been to shut her father down, but to shut down Ilyich himself, if he could find him. That was the only way she and thousands of women Ilyich traded for leisure would ever be safe. 

And that afternoon, she had realized that despite any issues, they worked well together, both focusing on their own areas of expertise, respecting the others. It had felt like an odd combination of domestic and professional. 

She inhaled deeply, knowing she'd have a dozen things to look at once she got home. 

The car took a left turn and she looked out, suddenly on alert. They were still in the city, still in the crowd, but they were not supposed to take this left. Looking at the back of Ivan's head, Felicity remembered what Roy had said about Oliver not trusting his men. But he had been okay with her coming with Ivan. Was it possible she was overreacting? But unable to shake off the feeling that something was wrong, deep in her gut, she saw a small boutique on the side and an idea came to her.

"Ivan," she called out as evenly as possible. "Could you please stop at that boutique for a moment?"

Ivan gave a curt nod and pulled over, getting out of the car. Felicity got out herself, forcing a smile on her face. "Oh, no need to come in. I won't be long. I just have to place an order for Thea."

Without waiting for his response, she walked into the store as calmly as she could, and went straight to the desk. "Do you have a back exit?"

The older woman behind the counter looked at her in surprise but nodded and pointed to a door behind a mannequin on the right. Felicity nodded. "Thank you. Oh, and someone is after me. If they come looking for me, please don't tell them anything."

The dark-haired woman nodded mutely and Felicity dashed for the door that opened in an alley, removing her coat and folding it in her hands, slowly walking out into the crowd on the street, away from the car. She took her phone out and dialed Oliver's number, praying for him to pick up. 

He did on the second ring, his calm voice soothing her some. "Felicity, I was just about..."

"Something is wrong," she started without preamble, stopping him in his words, panicking. "Ivan was supposed to take a right but he took a left and maybe I am overreacting but I could feel something was wrong in my gut so I had him stop at a boutique and I ditched him and now I am out in the street and I..."

"Where are you right now?" he asked curtly.

"I don't know exactly. But I programmed my phone into yours this afternoon," she told him, feeling glad she had. "So you should be able to track my phone. Click on the tracking app and.."

"I found it," his gruff voice came as though from speaker. "Just keep your head down and keep walking. Stay in the crowd. I'm not far from you."

Nodding, she swallowed and felt the hair on her neck prickle. She kept walking but looked around covertly, and saw two men, dressed in black, following her. She increased her pace and they did as well. 

"Uh-oh. Frack!" she muttered, keeping the phone to her ear. 

"What?" Oliver's rough voice came.

"Two guys are following me," she said, her heart hammering, adrenaline filling her system. 

"I'm almost there, Felicity. Stay on the line with me."

The urgency in his voice made her take a deep breath and calm down. She had to keep her head. She turned right with the shopping crowd and suddenly stopped, seeing Ray up ahead. What was Ray doing here? Nevertheless, she breathed a sigh of relief. A familiar face, thank god. She was just taking a step towards him when the blood left her face. He smiled and her blood ran cold. He smiled at her like he was waiting. Oh frackity frack. He was involved in all this shit?

"Oliver?"

"Yeah?"

"Ray is here," she said, letting it hang, knowing he would understand. 

The curse that followed let her know he did. "You see any direction you can run?"

She looked around wildly, seeing a path on the left, with lesser crowd but no creepy people, yet and replied in assent. 

"Then run," he said. "I'm almost there. _Digg, faster._ "

Felicity looked at the two men behind her, and at Ray to the right and started running left, all out sprint like she had never run before, hearing the shouts behind her but ignoring them. The muscles in her leg started burning as she got farther and farther away from the crowd, towards a more secluded, industrial area, and sweat broke out over her skin. Her heels were making it harder and harder and she stopped for a second, catching her breath, and removing her heels, throwing them at the men behind her, hitting Ray right in the face with one. Feeling a little burst of satisfaction, she started running faster on her feet, her skin cutting on the uneven ground, feeling the deep scratches starting to softly bleed but she kept running, her phone in her hand. 

Suddenly, she collided with a wall of muscle that stepped in front of her, fear that one of them had snuck up on her making a wild scream tear from her chest as she started beating the man wildly, struggling against his hold. 

"Felicity! It's me! Hey! Hey! It's me, солнешко."

The voice got through her panic induced haze and she finally looked up to see Oliver gazing down at her. Collapsing in relief, she launched herself at him, so glad, so happy to see he had made it to her that she almost forgot the men after her. But Oliver didn't.

Without a word but with a soft reassuring squeeze, she felt his stance change as he pushed her behind him, blocking her with his body and faced the men who had now stopped almost ten feet from them. She saw Digg come and stand beside Oliver, both men now completely blocking her from view, as they faced the other four. 

"Hand her over and we'll let you go."

She recognized Ray's voice and felt her skin crawl and a sudden thought struck her. Had he been in her father's office that night to kidnap her? And stopped because Oliver had come in?

Oliver kept his one hand behind him on her waist, his body vibrating with his anger. This was not the vulnerable, soft man she saw in the mornings. This was the hard, cold-blooded man people feared. 

"I always knew you were a snake, Palmer," Oliver said, his voice hard. "I just never thought you'd go as low as to work for Ilyich."

"Oh, I wasn't going to," she heard Ray speak almost conversationally. "But I have wanted her for so long. And I have been so patient. Ilyich offered me a reward for that patience. A chance to have her."

Bile rose up in her throat as she felt Oliver's body tense even more. "Go back now and you go alive."

Ray laughed at that. "Everyone knows you don't like to kill, Queen. You rarely do. And you can't kill five armed men."

Five? There had only been three or four after her.

Oliver spoke again, his voice so cold a shiver raced down her spine. "If you know so much, Palmer, you should know that when I do kill, I don't need any weapon. And what I can do to you would make you wish for a clean death."

There was a heavy beat of silence and her heart pounded and her feet throbbed. She looked down to see red pooling around her bruised feet but ignored it. Oliver needed to be focused right now on keeping them safe. 

"You know Ilyich will get her. We will get her," Ray spoke again.

"You'll have to go through me first," Oliver said, and everything erupted into chaos. 

With a strong push at her that threw her to the ground, she saw Oliver move forward as the other men charged forward and Digg start shooting them one by one. Two guys dropped down and one managed to disarm Digg, getting him into combat, while Oliver fought of Ivan and Ray smoothly, the other two being no match for his technique, but giving back a good fight. She saw the guy with Digg drop down the same moment Oliver punched Ivan in the throat, making his eyes bulge as he dropped to the ground unconscious and moved in on Ray. 

Picking Ray up by the collar, he punched him in the face, repeatedly and spoke something in a low voice she was unable to catch, leaving him on the ground in pain. It was over in mere seconds but it felt like hours. He stood still for a moment, his hands clenched, face down as Digg came to her, holding her shoulder. 

"You okay, Felicity?"

It was like his voice jarred Oliver and he suddenly looked right at her, breathing heavily while she nodded at Digg.

"Digg, please get the car," Oliver said evenly, his eyes locked on her as she sat on the ground. With a sigh, Digg got up and moved away into another street, the one from where Oliver had come out of nowhere. 

Oliver took steps forward towards her, his eyes locked on hers and sat down on his haunches, his hands gentle on her face as he cupped it, unlike how he had been just now. He pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes, breathing her in. 

"Promise me something?" he whispered, his breath ghosting over her as he opened his eyes again.

"What?" she breathed back.

"Never stop trusting your instincts."

She blinked back at him, her body starting to shake now that the adrenaline was finally wearing off, now that she felt safe with him. She heaved in a breath, trying to control the trembling and he pulled her into his chest, his scent enveloping her, anchoring her like he always did. 

"Shh," he whispered into her hair. "I've got you."

She gulped, feeling the calm slowly wash over her as her blood slowly stopped pounding in her veins. "Thank you for coming for me."

His arms tightened around her and he buried his face in her hair, smelling her, promising her. "I always will." 

She gripped his shirt at his words, moved in a way she could not explain. They stayed like that for a minute before he pulled back, finally letting his eyes rove over her for injuries, stopping at her feet, unable to see the blood she could feel sticking to the soles.

"Where are your heels?" he frowned, his brow furrowing. 

She bit her lip, a small smile lifting her lips. "Oh, you'd be proud. One of them flew and graced Mr. Palmer's face. I hit well on the run."

He chuckled before suddenly stopping and looking down at her. "You ran barefoot?"

She gulped, nodding and he narrowed his eyes, leaning over her legs to look closer. She closed her eyes, preparing for the string of curses she knew were going to come out of his mouth. He didn't disappoint.

"You are hurt and you didn't tell me!" he spoke loudly, like he was personally offended by that. Excuse her, her eyes opened at his tone, narrowing.

"And when was I supposed to whine about a small injury?" she challenged back. "When you were too busy fighting off bad guys? Saving us?"

He pursed his lips in view of her logic and simply put his hands under her, picking her up swiftly while pushing to his feet, making her hold onto his shoulder for support. Before she could say anything, the car came around and Digg opened the door, shaking his head at her feet and she repeated, "One of them hit Ray Palmer on the head."

Digg chuckled, amused at her, as Oliver placed her gently in the back seat, following after her and shutting the door behind them. He turned her so that her back rested against the door and pulled her legs up on his lap, looking at the cuts and blood carefully. 

Felicity leaned back and closed her eyes, the safety she had always taken for granted seeming so, so precious with him. And seeing him fight like that, seeing him come for her like that, she knew one thing deep in her bones now, one thing that Roy had told her in the corridor that day- that he would die before letting any harm come to her, and coming from a man who thrived on surviving the worst of situations, it was a huge statement. It said something she was not ready to hear. He had been right. She was not ready yet to acknowledge that. 

She stayed silent while he and Digg spoke about security and the measures they were going to have to implement in the house, screening the guards again, and they turned in the driveway, pulling up in front of her home. Their home. 

Oliver got down first, coming to her side and picking her up before she could protest, ensconcing her in his solid arms and entering the house. 

"Have you had dinner?" he looked down at her, asking softly. 

She nodded and burrowed into him. His arms tightened around her and he turned to Diggle. "Have Raisa send up a light snack." 

Digg nodded, smiling at her and she returned the smile, and walked off. Oliver turned to the staircase, climbing them too swiftly for a man carrying a full grown woman. But whatever. She had tried to stop getting surprised by his strength now. Especially after the Ladder of Lust. Boy, was that one crazy demonstration. And hot. 

Shaking her head, she focused on keeping quiet till they reached their room. Oliver entered and went straight to the bathroom, switching on the lights and depositing her on the cool granite beside the tub, folding his sleeves and removing his shoes and socks, coming to sit on his haunches before her.

"I can clean my feet, Oliver," Felicity said, blinking in surprise at his intent. 

Oliver looked up at her and raised his eyebrows. "Let me do it."

She huffed out a laugh. "Why?"

He shrugged and brought out the small hand shower, letting the cool water cascade over her feet, cleansing it, the dirt and blood mixing on the ground and going down the drain. Felicity looked at his bent head, so intent on his task, and felt something flutter inside her that she quickly tamped down. Now was not the time. He cleaned her feet thoroughly, using his own hands as gently as he could, before finally getting up and turning on the tap in the tub, filling it. 

She looked at him, feeling slightly amused at seeing him be so domestic after the way he had fought, and bit her lip. 

"Don't stand on that feet for a shower. Take a bath. I'll be outside," he said softly and turned away, without looking at her. She frowned slightly, not understanding his sudden withdrawal but shrugging it away. He knocked and left his t-shirt on the counter before going back out again, again without another look at her. Narrowing her eyes, feeling something had gone off, she sank down in the water and enjoyed her bath in peace for a while, before toweling herself dry and putting his t-shirt on. She opened the door and saw her fuzzy slippers just waiting in front of it, Oliver sitting shirtless and undressed on his side of the bed, looking intently at his phone. She stood for a while, looking at his profile, and he still didn't look up. 

Well, boo for him. She knew by now how to make him look, at least. 

She went to the bank of drawers, opening hers and pulled out a black one with 1s and 0s randomly scattered over it in white. She had ordered them especially for herself last year. Bending down, she dragged them over her legs and heard Oliver clear his throat from behind her, making her grin.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly, clearly on edge. 

"Wearing underwear, that you clearly forgot to keep in with your t-shirt," she replied as casually as she could. 

"Why?" he asked and she laughed, looking around at him, straightening up. 

"You'd prefer I go commando in bed?"

He choked slightly before clearing his throat again, remaining silent and broody. She sighed and hopped on the bed as he turned, taking her feet in his lap, and squeezing out some cream from a tube, rubbing it softly over her cut skin.

She stared at his head for a while before finally getting impatient. "What's wrong, Oliver?"

He continued rubbing, didn't look up, but spoke softly. "I never wanted you to get hurt, Felicity."

Understanding dawned upon her suddenly and she grabbed his face with one hand, feeling his scruff burn her hand in the best way possible, tilting his head up, looking at the turmoil in his eyes. 

"Oliver," she said softly, smiling at him. "You came for me."

He started to speak but she interrupted. "No. Listen to me. Right now, my entire life is in upheaval. Things I knew for certain till yesterday have crumbled to dust today. So knowing that you came for me, that you always will, that is the thing keeping me together. I am a strong person, Oliver. I know that. But right now, you are my pillar. And you coming to get me means more than you can possibly understand."

He looked at her with his unflinching intensity, his breathing heavy, and she continued. "You may have done things that we have to work over. But today, you saved me, from something way more horrible than mere cuts and bruises that won't even be there in a few days. You have been saving me from something way worse and I need you to acknowledge that. I need you to understand that this is not your fault. This is not because of you."

"Felicity," he whispered her name, leaning his head against her bent knees, breathing softly and she stroked his head, her heart hardening. 

"This is my father's fault. This is on him. Which is why I'm going to talk to him tomorrow."

His head shot up at that and he looked at her.

"Are you sure?"

She breathed in relief, thankful he didn't try to stop her. "I need to do it. For my own peace of mind. I can't live like this."

Oliver considered her for a moment before nodding his head. "Would you like me to come with you?"

She bit her lip and nodded softly. "I don't mean to come off as needy but having you there will help..."

"I'll be there," he softly squeezed her calf, stopping her in her tirade. 

She looked at him for a long moment, just taking in the planes of his face, before leaning forward and capturing his lips with hers. He gasped slightly in surprise before holding her head gently and kissing her softly, with a tenderness that made her heart clench. His scruff burned the already sensitive skin around her mouth but she didn't care, tilting her head and giving him even more access, which he took, deepening the kiss, softly tangling their tongues together, meshing their mouths, the slow heat from him warming her. She pulled back, pressing herself into him, feeling his arms come up around her as he shifted them down to horizontal on the bed, settling in the middle. 

"You aren't hiding anything else from me, right?" she asked softly, looking up at his face, searching his eyes, her breath hanging onto his answer. 

He looked down at her, brushing her hair away from her face, his eyes completely honest. "Nothing else."

She inhaled in relief, gulping. "Good, because if you were, I'd kick your ass and break your heart."

He chuckled softly at her threat, pulling her closer, muttering softly. "Only you can."

Her heart picked up at his words, with implications she didn't want to acknowledge, not ready yet. But she burrowed into him, letting his woodsy scent wrap around her, closing her eyes, happy in at least one thing she knew for sure now- he would not be breaking her heart again.  

Oliver had become her one certainty.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
> So, what did you think?
> 
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	18. Sveltering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Firstly, I'm so sorry for being slightly late on the update. 
> 
> Secondly, note that the smut level goes up from this chapter on. Yeah, I squealed too. Lol. THERE IS SMUT-ish stuff happening so if that's not your thing, consider yourself warned. 
> 
> Thirdly, I haven't been able to reply to any comments on the previous chapter and I am so very sorry about that. I will as soon as I can though. Your comments are so, so precious to me!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one. Daddy-daughter confrontation. The first one at least. And obviously stuff happens too.
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line with your thoughts. I love to hear from you!
> 
> Happy reading!!!

Felicity fidgeted in the passenger seat, playing with her seat belt and watching the scene outside the window as Oliver drove skillfully down the clear evening roads towards her father's house. 

She couldn't exactly pin point what she was feeling. It was somewhere between rage and hurt and betrayal and numbness and more rage. She had been swinging between those emotions since she had woken up this morning, pushing herself out of the bed before Oliver had even had a chance of waking up, and ensconcing herself in her office for the entire day, not wanting to see or talk to anybody. 

A part of her was not ready for this conversation, would never be ready for this conversation. But she had to have it. She knew. And that was the only reason she had come out of her office in the evening, heading straight to Oliver's study. She had knocked and entered and he had looked up evenly, his gaze asking no questions of where and why she had been MIA. She didn't know what she would have done had he asked. Close to the edge as she was, she had not needed that and thankfully he had understood, just like he always did. 

She had told him she was ready to see her father, ready to have that release she knew that discussion would bring her, and he had left whatever work he had been doing, dressed casually as he was in a button down shirt and jeans, grabbed his cell phone, car keys, and her hand, pulling her with him. He had shaken his head at Digg, making it clear to everyone that they were going out alone and gotten in the Porsche, letting her settle before driving out of the driveway. 

They had been on road for almost ten minutes now, silent, not exchanging a word as she got lost in her own head, feeling the wind on her face and the dusk settle in the sky. 

Turning in her seat, she glanced at him, seeing the confident way he handled the stick, and for some reason, it seemed very sexual. Well, him breathing was sexual for her. She was biased that way. 

He glanced at her once, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly at her stare and she flushed, her cheeks heating. 

"Felicity?"

His voice broke through her embarrassment, and she replied. "Yup?"

He stole another glance at her before shaking his head. "Nothing."

She frowned, opening her mouth to ask him what he had been about to say just as he pulled in the driveway of her parent's house and all the light thoughts fled her mind. Swallowing, she waited for him to park and got out before he could come around and open the door for her, watching her old housekeeper come at the door with a smile, calling for her mother.

Felicity forced a smile on her face, feeling Oliver's arm slip behind her waist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She took a deep breath. He was with her. He was there with her and she could do this. Nodding to herself, she entered the foyer, step in step beside him as her mother came down the stairs, smiling wide.

"Oh, honey! What a lovely surprise!"

She hugged her tightly and Felicity's arms tightened around her, her heart clenching. Her beautiful, strong, innocent mother, who had always been ready with a sweet word or the best of hugs for her, had no idea what her husband had done to her child. And she couldn't tell her. Not yet. And suddenly Felicity knew how hard it must have been for Oliver to keep this from her. He must have felt the way she felt looking at her clueless mother, only a hundred times worse.

Oliver's hand rubbed her spine softly, in the soothing way that had become their own private gesture, saying so much without saying anything at all and she pulled back, taking strength from it.

 

"You will stay for dinner, right?" her mother asked, looking at the two of them with bright eyes like her own.

"Mom," Felicity began, ignoring the question. "Where is...?"

Her throat closed up. She couldn't say 'Dad'. She could not call that man by that name anymore, not knowing what he had done.

Oliver stepped in smoothly, without missing a beat, a polite smile on his face. "We have some business to discuss with Mr. Orlov, Donna. It's a little urgent."

Her mother frowned slightly, looking at Felicity with sharp eyes, the eyes she used to give her when Felicity had been hiding something and her mother's instinct had just known. "He is in a meeting in his study right now."

Oliver nodded. "Then we shall wait for him there."

Donna Smoak was many things, but a fool she was not, especially where her daughter was concerned. And Felicity was a terrible liar.

"Is everything alright, honey?"

Felicity's stomach dropped to her knee and she floundered for a second, pasting a tremulous smile on her face, feeling Oliver's arm tighten over her waist.

"I'm fine, Mom," she spoke softly, giving her elbow a rub. "It's just Roy. He had a slight accident, that's all."

She saw her mother's face clear as she inhaled. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah, just bed-ridden. But he's recovering."

He mother nodded, smiling again and looked at Oliver, pointing to the corridor. "Go on and wait there if you like. And if you're done early we can have dinner together."

With that, she turned and went in the direction of the kitchen and Felicity took in a gulp of air, a shiver going down her body. She didn't feel like the level-headed woman she was. She felt like the little girl who had just realized her daddy was the monster in her closet. She felt weak. Could she do this?

"Yes, you can," she heard Oliver's voice say softly and looked up at him, his his clear blue eyes, knowing she had voiced out her thoughts.

He turned her to face him, holding her by the shoulders, softly massaging her tight and cramped muscles, his gaze unflinching. "You are the strongest woman I have ever met, солнешко. And you will do this."

She held his eyes for a long moment, seeing nothing but his own faith in her reflected back at her and she nodded, inhaling.

"Stay with me?" she asked softly, her jaw trembling. She was so, so scared.

Oliver's hands came up to hold her face, stopping the tremors and tilting it up, his eyes so intense they chased away some of her demons. "Always."

Taking a deep breath, feeling like she hadn't in a long time, she closed her eyes and steeled her spine, tangling her fingers with his and stepping to the corridor, taking comfort in his solid presence beside her. 

They walked in the corridor, the same corridor where she had fallen with him all those years ago, and a small smile lifted her mouth, her eyes locking with his. He didn't smile but she could see the amusement in his eyes, see that he was remembering the same thing as she. They stayed silent in the shared memories and waited outside the door to the study, her eyes drifting to where their hands were joined, focusing on the physical contrast between them. It was so stark. His hands were big and rough, hers were small and soft. His hands were tanned, an evidence of his hard work through the years; hers were pale and though necessary to her work, they did not reflect it. His fingers were long and nails blunt; hers were rounded and short and painted bright pink. His wedding band glinted in the light on his finger, and her beautiful ring still remained on her right. She was certain he had noticed that, but he had never said anything. 

She rubbed her thumb over his, marveling at the differences between them and looked up at him, craning her neck. His eyes were not fixated on her hands, but on her, watching her with that heated look in his eyes than made her swallow. That look. It did things to her insides at completely inappropriate times but did she revel in that feeling. Biting her lips, she tugged on his hand, pulling him closer, her back hitting the wall and tilted her face up, her mouth parting in invitation as her heart stuttered.

Oliver untangled one hand from hers, brushing her cheeks with the back of his fingers, a small smile lifting his mouth, his eyes burning into hers.

"Later."

That one word made her stomach flutter, the promise in his gaze so concrete, her pulse rocked wildly out of control, her body aching acutely for him. But he was right. This was not the time or the place. Definitely not the place.

"I don't know whether to praise your control or insult it," she muttered, sighing heavily, a small pout forming on her face.

His lips turned up and he tilted his head to the side, looking at her. "You can decide later when I have none of it."

"Are you flirting with me, Mr. Queen?"

"Is it working, Mrs. Smoak-Queen?"

She swallowed at his words, straightening. "Let's get this over with and home. I have the right incentive at least."

A chuckle escaped him just as the door to the study opened and they turned to it, both sobering.

Felicity's hand tightened over his as she saw Sonya Rochev leave the room, dressed in a gorgeous black dress like she always was, stopping as she looked at Oliver, her gaze traveling over him unabashedly, firing Felicity's blood.

"Oliver," Sonya spoke, literally purring his name.

Felicity saw Oliver don the polite mask, nodding once curtly. "Sonya."

Her eyes then drifted to Felicity and she smirked slightly. "What are you doing here?"

Felicity's hackles rose, her teeth gritting but she smirked back just the same. "Shouldn't I be asking you that considering you are in my parent's house?"

Sonya's face tightened infinitesimally, her eyes lingering over Oliver before coming back to her. "I had a meeting but I'll be taking your leave."

Her eyes went back to her husband's and Felicity controlled the urge to smack her. Her smile became slightly flirtatious, making Felicity gag. "We will set up a dinner later, right? You would not mind, would you, Felicity?"

Felicity's free hand fisted and she kept her cool smile on her face. "Why would I? My husband is a busy man and he meets people at all times of the day."

Sonya grinned but Felicity was not done. "But end of that busy day, he comes back home to sleep in our bed, after all."

She could feel Oliver's amusement at her jealousy as he remained silent, and saw the way Sonya's pretty lips pursed. "What are you implying?"

Eyes narrowing, letting her inner bitch unleash, Felicity let go of Oliver's hand and took a step closer to Sonya, standing to her full height, pinning her with her icy gaze. "Oh, I'm not implying anything, Ms. Rochev. I'm telling you very clearly. You have business with my husband, I understand that. I respect that, one woman to another. What I don't respect however is you coming on to him, even when he rejects your advances. So, next time you think of doing that, remember that he is married to this one genius who does not like to share and who can dismantle your entire business with one flick of her fingers."

Sonya Rochev's face tightened in anger and she stared hard at her before turning on her heels and leaving without a word. Felicity felt the rage still inside her, flowing through her veins, looking at Oliver's highly amused face as he came into view.

"Not one word," she warned in a low voice and he raised his hands in defense, his face split in a grin that was too much for her anger.

With an exhale, she scowled at him and turned to her father's office. Showtime.

With a deep breath, she entered, feeling Oliver right behind her.

She saw both her father and Anatoly sitting opposite each other before the desk and steeled herself, her heart hammering in her chest so badly.

Anatoly got up when he saw her enter, a smile forming on his face as he came forward with his arms open. 

"Моя милая принцесса," he said loudly, hugging her tight and she returned it, her heart pounding. He pulled back and slapped Oliver on the shoulder affectionately. "Oliver."

"Anatoly," his voice greeted warmly, soothing her frazzled nerves. 

"What are you doing here, принцесса," Anatoly asked looking at her confused and she looked at Oliver, finding strength inside herself. "Please lock the door, Oliver."

Wordlessly, he went and locked it, and she felt Anatoly frown in confusion. 

"I have some things to talk about, Anatoly," she started coolly, her voice not wavering even once, "and please don't interrupt me unless I ask. Any of you."

Anatoly frowned harder but nodded, sitting down on the chair, his eyes on her. She looked at Oliver leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes clear and confident in her. Nodding to herself, she turned to her father, who had not budged an inch since she had entered and was looking at her completely blankly.

She tilted her head to the side, crossing her arms over her chest, keeping herself together. "You want to tell me something?"

Her father stilled, his eyes flickering to where Oliver stood before coming back to her. "No."

Felicity gripped her own arms, stepping closer to the desk. "Okay. Then let me tell you a story."

She took a deep breath, looking straight at her father. "There was once a girl, very loved by her family, cherished by everybody, but never had fallen in love. She met a boy who was invited to her house by her father, whom he worked with. They met and secretly started seeing each other, knowing that the girl's family might not approve completely. It was a dangerous world after all."

She saw both Anatoly and her father look at Oliver in surprise to the news. Yes. Newsflash. They had been together before. Knowing they were listening, she continued, walking in front of the desk. "The girl was happy. She had found someone she could be with. But one day, she heard him talking and realized that the boy was using her to destroy her father. She was heartbroken. And she threatened him to leave, to go away or she would expose him and get him killed. He left."

She saw the understanding dawn on both their faces as to why Oliver had left so abruptly. Anatoly gripped the chair, glaring at Oliver and she shook her head at him, looking back at her father. "The girl thought she had seen the last of the boy. But he returned. Three years later. To marry her. And the very father she had tried to protect by breaking her own heart let her marry him to save himself. The girl went to her new home and she settled in. She started liking it there except she knew the boy was hiding something from her. And then things started happening. Threats to her life. And the boy told her."

"Told what?" Anatoly asked but her eyes were glued to her father, his face losing all his color as he looked at Oliver.

Her throat tightened and her voice shook as she looked at the man she had called father for so long, the man she had loved despite everything. "Oliver told me."

Her father closed his eyes and Anatoly chimed in again. "What did Oliver tell you?"

Felicity's eyes closed, tears escaping as a sob caught in her throat. "He told me why he had done what he did three years ago. He told me why he married me all of a sudden."

"Why?"

A sob escaped her mouth and she felt a hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly. She did not have to turn to see it was Oliver.

She looked at her father, who was still looking down, and the rage that had been burning in her for so long rose in a wave.

Her hand came down on his desk as she shouted.

_"At least have the courage to look me in the eyes, you coward!"_

Her father looked up at her, his eyes wide at her tone and she grit her teeth, leaning forward. "You despicable man. How could you?"

"What is going on?" Anatoly spoke loudly, standing up from his seat. 

Felicity looked at her father with disgust and turned to Anatoly. "Do you know who Ilyich is?"

Anatoly stilled looking at her. "Yes. What does he have to do with anything?"

Felicity laughed, the sound cold. "Well, this man sold his only daughter to Ilyich."

She saw Anatoly's eyes widen and his head swivel to her father, his body trembling with rage. "Is this true?"

Her father stayed silent and Anatoly took a step towards him, going for the hit when Felicity stopped him, a hand on his arm. 

She pinned her father with her icy gaze, her heart hating him so much at the moment. "You don't get to be silent now. Tell me. How could you do this?"

He got up from his chair, walking to the window, turning his back to her. Her anger increased as she marched up to him, gripping his arm and turning him around. 

"Tell me now! I deserve an answer!"

He looked at Oliver in anger. "You weren't supposed to tell her my failures. That was the deal."

She looked at him in disbelief just as Oliver's hard voice came from behind her. "My marriage is more important than our deal. She deserved to know."

"Then I married her to you for nothing!" her father shouted back. "You tell her my mistakes and make yourself better in her eyes. Where is your honor?"

Felicity gripped her father's arm and looked at him coldly, speaking before Oliver could. "He has more honor in his finger than you do in your entire body. So, don't talk to my husband like that. He is never going to sell his child to save his own hide."

She saw the shame in her father's gaze as he looked away. "It was a mistake."

"And your mistakes define my life. Why?"

"I was in debt, Felicity," he spoke again. "I had to get out before Ilyich killed all of us."

She scoffed. "Don't lie to me even now. You were involved with Ilyich, trading in people and bodies, way before this. That was why Oliver wanted you gone in the first place. I wish i had helped him then. I wish I had known the kind of man you are."

"You have Oliver on a pedestal and you don't even see the kind of man he is."

She stayed quiet, looking at her father, seeing him for the first time through open eyes. And all she felt now was disgust and disappointment. "Oliver or I don't have to prove anything to you. But I am here to tell you this."

She straightened to her full height, staring him down, letting him see her hatred. "You will help us take down Ilyich but after that is done, I never want to see or hear from you again. I am done being your daughter. I am done with you. For this, I will never forgive you. You are as good as dead to me now."

"Don't say that, Felicity. I am your father," he responded weakly.

"You stopped being my father the day you sold me like meat."

She turned away, tears streaming down her face, looking at Anatoly who looked back at her with so much pain in his eyes. He came forward, holding her hand tightly. "I'm so sorry, принцесса. I did not know. How could I have...."

Felicity gave him a tremulous smile, gripping back his hand. "You are still my favorite uncle, Anatoly."

He closed his eyes, pressing a small kiss to her head. "And you will always be my princess."

Another sob escaped her mouth and she pulled back, her control teetering. Anatoly looked at her, then Oliver. "I will help in any way I can. Call me tomorrow."

She nodded, kissing his cheek and looking at Oliver, beseeching him to take her. He came forward, understanding, and entwined their fingers like before, pulling her to his side. 

Anatoly looked at her once, deeply, and asked. "Are you happy, considering everything?"

Felicity felt Oliver still, waiting for her response, his uncertainty so evident in his posture against her, and she smiled at Anatoly. "The happiest I can be, considering everything."

The way both the men relaxed would have amused her some other time but she was getting stifled in the room. 

Finally, she took the step towards the door with Oliver, walking out with him without a word, in silence, straight to the car, thankfully encountering nobody in between. She felt Oliver turn her, pulling her into his chest and she went willingly, letting go of the little tears she had left, taking strength from his body, his warm chest comforting her as his hands on her back, stroking her spine in the gesture that was now theirs. Soothed, and feeling better, she pulled away and got in on her side as Oliver got in his, and drove out, without a word, away from the house that meant nothing to her anymore. 

"I don't want to go home yet," she murmured softly in the space between them, wiping away her tears.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked back softly, eyes on the road. 

She rolled down the window, letting the cool night breeze soothe her, the smell of rain heavy in the air. Looking up at the thick clouds, she saw them roll and thunder, knowing it was going to rain. Feeling lighter than she had in a long, long time, relieved to have everything off her chest, she turned to her husband, taking a hold of his hand on the stick.

"Somewhere with just us," she replied to his question, feeling her heart pound. "Only for a while. But only the two of us."

He glanced sideways at her, his voice coming out huskier than normal. "Are you sure?" 

She didn't say anything, just leaned back with a smile, watching the tiny droplets come down on the glass, washing her face, purifying her, cleansing her. She extended her hand out, catching the droplets in her palm as the rain came down harder, and threw the water at him, splashing him. His eyes flared quickly in surprise before his dimple peeked out and he swerved the car, entering a comparatively smaller road. 

She frowned, not understanding where they were going but along for the ride, trusting him as he took turns and finally stopped the car after minutes, turning the ignition off. She looked outside, through the pounding rain that was coming down in sheets, to see where they were. A squeak escaped her as she saw the beach, completely empty, and the sea stretch in front of her. Unable to resist, she threw away her jacket and glasses inside and took off her heels, opening the door and running out.

She was soaked within seconds and she loved it- the feel of the wet sand beneath her naked feet, the feel of the water cascading down her body, the feel of being free. Opening her arms wide, she twirled around, a giggle leaving her, her father, Ilyich, everything forgotten. She was here only as herself. There was nothing else. And that was so, so precious.

On her fifth or sixth turn, her eyes locked with her husband's as he stood, leaning against the hood of the car, ankles and arms crossed, soaked as she was, but watching her. And her blood heated. She stared back at him, smiling, but feeling every wet drop on her body, the sound of the water in her ears as her dress clung to her body. 

She saw him straighten and walk to her, his body moving with the lithe grace of a panther ready to strike, his own feet bare like hers. Her chest heaved with each step he took and suddenly something came over her, that naughty part inside her that loved to tease him woke up and she grinned devilishly at him, sprinting away down the empty beach. After a few steps, she turned to see him. He stood still where he had been, watching her with a small smile on his face before starting towards her on a jog and she yelped, running away again, the rain making it hard, her chest bursting with something. 

A few seconds later, she felt his arms wrap around her from behind, turning her, a loud laugh leaving her chest. He spun her around, giggles leaving her and finally set her down, turning her to face him. 

She squinted through the rain up at him, smiling and suddenly, the thought in her head felt right. It was time for this. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she raised her hands in front of him, and with deliberate slowness, she removed the ring he had given her months ago, from her right hand finger and keeping her gaze on his, she slid it down on her left, sliding it home. His eyes looked back at her with that singular focus, the intensity in them something she could not name and her heart beat wildly as his hand touched the ring, pulling it to his lips, kissing it.

And then, before she could blink, his hands were under her hips, right on her ass, picking her up right against his torso, a loud yelp leaving her at his very hot, and very sexy display of strength. She wrapped her legs around him, their bodies slick against each others, her hands carding through his wet hair as he just stood there, holding her up, so close that she was burning in his arms, feeling the muscles flex all around her. 

She was a little above him and she looked down at his face, mapping his beautiful features as the rain poured all over them, her lips a hair-breadth from his. 

And then he did the craziest thing with his strength that spiked her pulse and made her look at him in disbelief. He held her entire weight with only one hand on her hips while his other gripped the back of her head and pulled her face down to his, clashing their mouths together.

This was not the soft, slow kiss of their morning. This was not the intense kiss he had given her to prove he wanted her. No. This kiss was something else. 

Their mouths collided together, meshing over each other, the water of both their lips making it slippery and adding a level of eroticism to the moment she had never felt before, as he sipped from her, taking her lips and exploring her mouth with his. She gripped at his hair, pulling him closer, so close there was no space between them anymore, pressing her breasts into his shoulder at this height, her hips rotating of their own accord as he groaned against her mouth, the sound vibrating deep inside her. The water was cool on her skin but her core was burning, spearing fire through her body, making her so hot she felt she would combust as she kissed him with everything she was and everything she could be in his arms, unashamed of the pleasure he incited in her. 

Breathing heavily, she pulled back as he licked a stripe on her neck, making her tilt her head back and come back to his ear. She bit on his lobe softly and felt his arm tighten around her hips, his hand on her head pulling her away. 

"Felicity," he mouthed as she looked down at him, seeing the desire darkening his gaze, seeing the control he was keeping for her sake, seeing so many things. 

Leaning forward, she took a hold of his lower lip between hers and tugged, feeling his hand on her skull flex in reaction as he slanted their mouths more solidly and plundered her mouth, his tongue battling with hers, over and over again, every brush eliciting a deep moan from her, making her want to spread her legs a little wider, trying to feel the right friction against him. 

This, right here, was the reason she had been so scared of feeling anything with him. He was a tsunami, that flooded everything inside her so completely she didn't know who she was before him. He overwhelmed her with the feelings he could inspire, the physical wantonness he prodded her to feel, the emotional fulfillment meant only for them. 

She felt him turn and slowly walk towards the car, and how he could walk when she had climbed him like a tree was beyond her. She could think on that later but right then, she just needed to keep kissing him. Kissing him was heaven. It was sin. It was everything in between and she was addicted. It was better than she remembered. So much better.

She felt him deposit her carefully on the hood of the car, their mouths still locked and felt him press more solidly into her, right against her heat. A loud mewl left her lips, swallowed by his and his hands traveled under her dress, stopping at her thighs and he pulled back, looking at her for whatever permission. Lord, the man!

She hooked her arms around his neck, feeling her swollen mouth and her rasped skin, pulling him. "This is your later, Oliver."

He delved back into her mouth, their tongues tangling together as his hands moved up her outer thighs, wet with the rain, his callouses rubbing against her in the most delicious way as she ground her hips into his jeans-clad erection, the friction spiking her heartbeat and spreading the fire outwards. 

She bit at his lips as his hands remained on her outer thighs, not moving anywhere to where she wanted it, and she pulled back, frowning at him, her chest heaving. 

He looked down at her, his own lips swollen and the sight made a flare of heat go through her. She had done that to him. 

"Felicity," he groaned. "This is too public."

A laugh escaped her and she grinned. "Not on a rainy day."

He huffed out a laugh and Felicity pulled him again. "Just enjoy this moment, Oliver. We will deal with everything else later. This moment, right here, just us."

He attacked her mouth with a ferocity she hadn't felt in him before, just kissing her lips, her blood rushing everywhere.

"God, you are a fever in my blood," he muttered against her lips, before kissing her again. 

She removed one hand from his neck, bringing it down on his wrist on her thigh and tugged at it, putting it right against her cotton clad heat. She felt his breath hitch as he felt her against his hand for the first time and hers did as well as she held on to his wrist. His fingers moved over the cotton, eliciting a moan from her as she moved her hips, seeking him more firmly, keeping their mouths together, the rain pounding on them. 

Slowly, his fingers pushed the cotton aside, feeling her folds, brushing against where nobody had ever touched her before. 

Her breath stuttered and she pulled back as he latched onto her ear. 

"You are so fucking wet."

His growl made her tremble. His words made her giggle. "So are you."

A deep chuckle escaped him as he pulled his head up, looking at her, his eyes intense. "Felicity?"

"I'm sure," she muttered before he could say anything else. And yes, she was sure. She wanted this. She wanted this with him. 

Leaning his forehead against her as the rain splashed around them, he kept their eyes locked and slipped one finger inside her. Her breath hitched and eyes almost fluttered when he growled again. "Keep your eyes on me."

The soft command made her stomach flutter, and she bit her lip, feeling the water against her skin as he slipped a second finger inside her. She could feel herself stretching around him. His blue eyes pierced hers, the clarity in them making her heart pound faster, his fingers slowly moving inside her. She gripped at his shoulders, her breathing becoming faster along with the speed of his fingers, pumping in and out of her, stretching her like never before. 

"Oliver," she panted, her eyes closing and he pulled her head up with his free hand. "Eyes on me, Felicity. I want to see you."

The fire spread in her belly, outwards, while something else coiled tighter and tighter with each pump of his digits as she locked her eyes with his, sounds escaping her wilder than she would have thought. She rocked her hips against his hand instinctively, faster and faster, their eyes locked on each other, the warmth in her body becoming scorching hot as she went higher and higher, her nails digging into his flesh. 

"Oliver, please," she begged in her lust glazed voice, the sound of the rain almost drowning it but he understood. He always did. 

He pushed his fingers in, curling them suddenly while pushing her nub with his thumb, and her body exploded, arching almost off the car and into him as she came with a loud cry, shaking, stars bursting behind her closed lids as he kept pumping his fingers, prolonging the waves of pleasure rolling over her body. She slowly came down from her high, her breathing erratic, and opened her eyes. 

He looked back at her with an expression she couldn't name as his free hand cupped her face, kissing her hard. 

"Mine," he whispered against her mouth and she felt her muscles clench around his fingers in reaction to the possessive gleam in his eyes. "Only mine."  

Just then, two cars passed the street, honking at them and Oliver stilled, shielding her from the view. He removed his hand from her, the emptiness making her moan out and kissed her again, softly. 

She bit her lip hard, closing her legs as he stepped back. "Oliver?"

He looked at her, running a hand through his wet hair. 

She stared back, letting her eyes speak, letting the meaning of what she was going to say hang in between them, the implications clear, watching his surprise and arousal hum between them at the words. 

"Take me home."

She was ready. For him. Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
> Моя милая принцесса - My Little Princess  
> So, what did you think?
> 
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	19. Inferno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So, this chapter. I know you guys have been waiting for it. I have been waiting for it. Let's hope this didn't disappoint. 
> 
> The rating of the story goes up to EXPLICIT from this chapter on, so you have been warned. Also, if you don't like to read smut, skip this chapter because this is like the culmination of all that sexual tension. And this is a long chapter, almost 7K. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Stuff happens. Hot stuff.
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line with your thoughts. I love to hear from you!
> 
> Happy reading!!!

The car seats were completely wet, and ruined but from the focused look on Oliver's face, she didn't think he was even sparing it a thought. She looked out the windshield, barely able to see a thing. How the hell he was driving so smoothly in this condition was beyond her. And she was getting nervous now.

Since getting in the car, he hadn't even glanced once at her, but she blamed it on the road he had to concentrate on perhaps. But sitting beside him, she felt nervousness bubble up inside her. She knew it had been right, but what if Oliver was not ready? What if she had interpreted his signals wrong? And then she shook her head. No. His desire had been very evident to her. That couldn't be the case. And the nervousness about this transformed into another kind of nervousness.

This would be the first time she would be getting naked with someone. The first time she would be having sex. She was going to lose her virginity, by her own choice, on her own terms, to the man she wanted. And while she was not unsure about her own body or anything (she knew very well he found her attractive) it was making her nervous. Because she knew the nudity tonight would be more than just physical. This night had been a long time coming. No pun intended.

The part of her that believed in fate told her this night was going to be the culmination of everything that had been building up between them ever since the day they met in that corridor. The part of her that didn't believe in fate told her the same. And that was a little confusing as to her stand on fate but she didn't particularly care at the moment. Her inside were a pile of mushy goo. She had just had her first orgasm, a spectacular orgasm, just by his fingers and she couldn't wait to let him explore her body. And explore his. And that made her nervous all over again.

They stayed silent, the tension between them so thick it could be cut with a butter knife, and Felicity glanced at him, her eyes drifting to his lap. He was still hard, and the knowledge gave her a weird sense of power while also making her swallow in nervousness. She was coming to hate that word.

She saw the gates on the mansion up ahead, and her heart started pounding frantically, her fingers shaking as she clasped her hands together. Oliver drove in, through the winding driveway, and stopped in front of the door, turning the ignition off. Felicity waited for a heartbeat, before opening her door and sprinting to the house, unable to contain her nervous energy. She dripped on the carpet as she walked up the stairs, thankfully not seeing anyone in between. She didn't think anyone would want to encounter her inappropriate mouth right now. Well, except Oliver. She was pretty sure he would love her inappropriate mouth.

Felicity shook her head and literally ran to their room, now aware whether he was even following or not, and opened the door, entering, and shutting it behind her. The sound of the door closing never came and she stilled, freezing on the spot, her heart hammering in her chest like it would beat out of her body. After a few seconds, the door clicked shut, the sound of the lock very loud in the silence of the room and her she could hear the blood rushing in her ears, pulsing in her entire body. 

The room itself was dark, the only light coming through the windows, the lights from the lawn, as the rain pounded on the glass, in sync with her heart. She kept her back to him, feeling him move forward towards her, and her body started to shake slightly of its own accord. Nervous anticipation. Dang the word.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to, солнешко," she heard him say in a low voice, a voice that tugged at her already heated core and made her breathing spike. How would she not want to after that?

She inhaled deeply, and whispered back, baring her thoughts. "I do want to. I just don't know why I'm so... I just..."

She floundered for words, unable to express anything, getting slightly frustrated, forgetting how well he knew her, when she felt his big hands slip around her waist, pulling her into his body, his lips feathering light kisses on the side of her neck, trailing up to her ear and down to her shoulder. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back on him, giving him more access, her body inflaming just at the small touch.

His mouth came up to her ear, nibbling on the lobe, whispering. "Tonight is for you, Felicity. Whatever you want."

His thumbs were rubbing maddening circles on her hips, his tongue darting out, hooking around her industrial piercing. He waited for a second before tugging on it, hard, and her spine curved, hips arching into his hands. Her chest heaved as she turned her head to look at him in surprise. How could that one small pull have resonated right in her core?

His face was so close, his blue eyes piercing her with that singular focus of his. "Tell me what you want, Felicity."

She searched his eyes, now familiar with that unnameable emotion she always saw looking back at her, realizing that whatever had happened in the past, he had worked so, so hard to make up for it in the present. He had been her rock tonight. Every night since before she had even known. And looking in his eyes, feeling the weight of the rings on her finger, not unwelcome at all, she knew her answer.

"I want us to have our wedding night," she murmured.

His breath hitched as he looked down at her before he swooped down, slanting his mouth over hers, pressing her into his body. She closed her eyes, feeling the passion he was unleashing on her swollen mouth, kissing her wildly as she lifted her arms, winding them around his neck, his hard chest pressing into her back and her neck craning to keep their mouths locked. 

His hands turned her around, facing him, as he pulled back, brushing her wet strands away from her face, his blue, blue eyes trained on her face, pupils blown. 

"Are you...?"

She huffed, narrowing her eyes. "I swear if you ask me if I'm sure one more time, I'll do something really drastic and dramatic."

His mouth curved up and he leaned forward, kissing her softly one more time. 

Pulling back again, he drilled her with his gaze, the light reprieve from a second ago evaporating as they just looked at each other. His hands came up to the zipper on the back of her dress, pulling it down, the sound loud in the the tensed silence between them. Once done, he tugged at her straps, and the wet dress, aided by gravity, pooled around her feet with a wet plop, leaving her in her purple underwear with pink hearts. 

Her heart raced as she saw Oliver's eyes take her in, his lips lifting slightly at her underwear choice, before his eyes came back on hers, the heat in them matched only by the naked yearning she could see on his face. This man wanted her and she could see it. She could feel it, and though that didn't kill the nervousness, it certainly alleviated it. And gave her the confidence to step forward, loosely holding the lapels of his shirt.

"I've always wanted to try something," she muttered, biting her lip. 

His brow furrowed slightly. "What?"

She pat his chest once, before grabbing his lapels again and ripping the shirt open, the buttons flying everywhere. Grinning, she looked at the sliver of tanned flesh she had revealed before a chuckle reached her ears and she looked up at him. He was smiling, shaking his head, but his eyes burned in a way she had never seen before. 

Swallowing, she pushed his wet shirt down, revealing his half naked body to her eyes, her cold fingers touching the scars, exploring the way she wanted to. 

Suddenly, he picked her up with that crazy display of strength, and pushed her on the bed, her legs dangling off the edge as he loomed over hear, her heart thundering.

He leaned down, planting a kiss on her pulse point, his knee coming up to rest right in between her legs, so, so close to her wet heat.

His fingers moved to her back, unsnapping her bra and flinging it off to the side, looking at her like this for the first time. Her nervousness returned and she lowered her gaze but his hand came up to her jaw, tilting her head back up.

"Do you have any idea how long I have dreamed of this?"

His guttural whisper made her nipples harden as he looked back at her. 

"Do you have any idea for how long I... have wanted to worship you?"

He leaned down, sucking the skin on her neck, and her head tilted back, eyes closing. His rough hands moved over her back, one softly coming to rest on her breast, engulfing it in his huge palm, rubbing the callouses over her painfully hard nipple as his mouth traveled down, to her other breast. 

He leaned her back on the bed, his warm breath ghosting over her other breast, her eyes clecnhed shut at the acute feelings he was eliciting in her body. He waited over her for a minute, a long torturous minute, before simultaneously latching onto one breast, pulling the other with his fingers, and pushing his knee against her heat. She arched into him with a cry, gripping his hair tightly as he kept up with massaging one breast, pulling and twisting one nipple alternatively, and laving the other with his tongue, sucking on it, all the while rubbing right against her with his knee, making her head spin over the multitude of sensations attacking her body all at once.

Her already swollen bundle of nerves, upon receiving the kind of friction it was, was making the gnawing hunger inside her so acute it left her breathless. She writhed against him, feeling like a live wire, gripping his wet hair and pulling as sensations assaulted her one after the other.

"Oliver," she panted, needing something she knew only he would be able to give her.

His mouth suddenly left her breast, the air around her tight bud prickling her heightened senses, and he came up, latching onto her mouth with a kiss that left her breathless, his tongue piercing her mouth over and over again.

"Fuck, I've wanted to hear you say my name like that for so long," he muttered against her lips before diving back into the kiss.

His knee went down from the bed, and she whimpered at the loss, pulling on his back, but he seemed determined. She felt his hands leave her breasts, slowly traveling over her stomach, feeling her skin, and hooking into her panties, pulling them off her dangling legs. 

Her heart beat fastened impossibly as the cool air hit her burning core, the contrast making her moan against his mouth. He pulled back, looking down at her with a gentleness that tugged on her heart, and she smiled at him softly, reassuring him that this was more than okay. 

He softly kissed her neck, making her eyes close again, and went down her body, kissing softly and nipping and biting and kissing softly again, his scruff raping her skin, adding to the sensation in a delicious way. 

He reached her navel and dipped his tongue inside, making her squirm and a giggle leave her mouth. She felt him pause and looked down at him, seeing her engorged nipples and the small marks on her skin down at his contemplative face. 

"I'm ticklish," she told him, shrugging softly and he grinned, keeping his eyes on her and rubbing his scruff on her hipbones, making her squirm harder and laugh. 

She tried to push his head away, giggling. "Oliver. Stop it!"

He didn't, holding her hips down, and she kept laughing when suddenly he bit on her hip, hard and a moan left her mid-laugh. She looked down at him, to see him settle on his knees in front of her legs and she knew without a doubt what was coming. Well, apart from her. 

She had read about it in a gazillion books, always knowing how intimate this was. His hands tried to spread her legs but she kept them closed, her nervousness returning full force. This was very intimate and somehow, she couldn't bring herself to open her legs right then, despite of wanting to. He frowned and looked at her as she looked down, searching her face. 

"Felicity?"

She swallowed. "I'm not ready for that Oliver."

Oliver focused on her face from the same place. "Are you sure?"

She felt a wave of frustration at herself, at her own indecisiveness. "No, I'm not sure. I just don't... I..."

And like earlier, she stuttered for words, sitting up, inhaling. "This is intimate, Oliver."

He looked up at her as she sat on the bed, from his knees on the ground, a soft smile coming onto his face. Taking a hold of her left hand, he peppered small kisses on her ring, keeping his eyes on her. 

"I crave intimacy with you, Felicity," he spoke softly, his eyes earnest and her heart stuttered. "But tonight is not about me. It's about you. And we won't do anything you are not comfortable with. It's for your pleasure."  

She bit her lip, still conflicted. "And you going down on me will bring me pleasure?"

"Yes."

"I...it's just," she stuttered again. "I just feel a little... conscious I guess. It's not like I have paraded my lady parts for a lot of people, in fact any people, and while I know I am fine, it's just this is my first time and it always sounds so intimate, and what if you don't like it and then I will be mortified and..."

"Felicity," his voice interrupted her rant and she gulped, her cheeks warming, looking away. 

"Look at me," he ordered softly, drawing her eyes back to his intent ones. 

"Do you think I should be conscious about my scars?" he asked, looking intently at her. 

She frowned. "Absolutely not."

"Why?"

She blinked down at him. "Well, because you are... _you._ "

He smiled, like that was the answer he had wanted. "And you are you, Felicity. For me, you are... _you._ "

He mimicked her tone, and understanding slowly dawned upon her, as she cupped his cheek, his words tugging at something deep inside her.  

"Now listen to me, very carefully," he said and she bit her lip, nodding. "You have absolutely nothing, I repeat, _nothing,_ to be conscious about. You are so beautiful. And believe me when I tell you, I just ache looking at you. Wanting you. Every second of the day."

His voice dropped in timbre and her heart rate fractured. "You have no idea how much I want to taste you, how badly I need to claim you in every way I can. You make me a beast, солнешко. We don't have to do this at all if you want. But don't worry about me. There is no way in hell I will not like it."

Heat coiled low in her belly at his words, and reassured by the honesty in his gaze, and overcome by her own desire for him, she loosened her legs, and she knew he felt it but he didn't look away, didn't move, waiting for her to take the first step.

She leaned down, kissing him, and he kissed her back completely. "You're a really good kisser," she muttered against his lips.

She felt his mouth curve up. "I'm glad you think so."

Laving his mouth once, she pulled back, decision made. "I want you to kiss me."

Her words, the implications, could not be misconstrued. She was not subtle.

"Tell me to stop if you don't like it," he said firmly and she nodded.

A small grin lifted his mouth. "You can make innuendos too, you know."

She smacked at his arm. "Shut up."

He grinned, capturing her lips again with his, but this time, his hands got to work, and she felt him spread her legs, opening her in a way she never had been before, and her heart thumped.

But she calmed herself down. This was Oliver. She had no reason to worry.

Pulling back, he pushed her down on the bed, keeping their gazes locked, and bit on the inside of her thigh, so close to the juncture. Her breath left her and the intensity in his eyes became too much. She lay back completely, closing her eyes, feeling his warm breath right at her heat before she felt him open her folds, her heart drumming madly in anticipation, and his tongue finally touched her, laving a path from her opening to her nub. She moaned loudly at the feel of his mouth on her, and her eyes opened.

"Oh frack."

She had completely forgotten about the mirror. And she felt a wave of wetness pool her at what she saw. 

She watched transfixed as her eyes roamed over her own naked body, her legs wantonly thrown over Oliver's shoulder as his hands kept her hips down and his head moved at the juncture of her thighs. The sight, more erotic than she could handle, made her walls clench emptily and a whimper leave her mouth.

Oliver's skilled tongue pierced her entrance, kissing it like she had asked, and her hips undulated on the bed, being held still by his hands. The feeling was incredible. That combined with their reflections was arousing her like nothing before. She could feel everything he was doing, and watch her own body respond to it in a manner she could never have imagined. Her hands fisted his hair, pulling him closer, and he responded with a growl she felt right against her, pulling deep inside her.

"You really are a good kisser," she muttered, her chest heaving faster as he pulled her nub into his mouth and sucked hard before sucking at her inner lips.

He chuckled against her folds and she mewled at the way it vibrated inside her, feeling the heat coiling tighter and tighter inside her, getting close to snapping.

Her eyes wanted to close for the pleasure that hummed in her entire body, curling her toes, but they remained fixed on ceiling, on the mirror, watching them with a fascination that spiked her arousal even higher. She didn't think she would ever forget the image of her own wanton self writhing on the bed and Oliver's head buried in her heat.

Suddenly, Oliver sucked on her nether lips, hard and flicked her clit with his tongue, and she felt herself rising higher into the heat, her head pressing back in the soft mattress.

"Fuck, you taste so good," she heard him mutter and gripped at his head in reaction, her thighs tightening around him.

He wedged his shoulders in between, keeping her open, and his hands kept her hips down as she flexed them automatically, trying to get closer. His scruff had rasped her skin completely and she knew she would have beard burns everywhere in the morning but she didn't care.

"Look at me, Felicity," he commanded and her eyes left the mirror, going down towards him. Her heartbeat ruptured at the wild, primitive look in his eyes as he very deliberately delved back in and flicked at her clit repeatedly, his one hand going down and she felt him insert one finger inside her. The combined sensation was making sounds she had never heard from herself escape her, her chest heaving wildly as she kept her gaze on him, watching him eat her out and pump his fingers in her, feeling her thighs start to tremble wildly and suddenly, the coil snapped. 

With a shout, she exploded into her orgasm, her entire body heaving off the bed, pushed down by his hand, her eyes closing and head digging into the mattress, one hand fisting into his head and the other in the sheets beside her, looking for purchase, her entire body shaking as he relentlessly continued his assault with his mouth, drawing out the waves of pleasure washing over her entire body.

She was panting loudly now, wanton in her sated desire, in her still hungry flesh, as she slowly came back to herself from the high, eyes opening, seeing the mirror. The mirror which sent another wave of arousal through her and she wasn't sure she could handle it anymore.

She felt Oliver remove his hands and mouth, and saw him move up her body in the reflection, her eyes closing as their mouths joined together. She could taste herself on his mouth, the thought of it sending another jolt through her body, as the languid, sloppy kiss continued.

He pulled back after a while and she moved down his chin, the stubble rubbing against her almost raw lips, and she licked her own taste off him, coming back up to kiss him again.

"This was dirty," she murmured softly, looking up at him.

He smiled softly. "I don't hear you complaining."

She felt herself blush under his scrutiny and bit her lip. "Now what?"

In answer, he pulled away, keeping his eyes on her, and stripped off the rest of his clothes. Felicity watched him with her racing pulse, finally getting a good look at the erection she had babbled about long ago, and her eyes widened.

Was that even going to fit?

A chuckle made her look up at him. "It'll fit."

And she had spoken out loud again. She watched her husband's body, marveling at how beautiful it was, forged in fire and pain and blood and sweat, and something shifted inside her, clicking into place, as she saw him stride forward to their bed. Their marital bed. She was married to this man. And this was their bed.

The thought warmed her heart in a way she would have laughed at two months ago, never thinking it possible. And then she frowned as a wild thought came to her.

"Have any other women been on this bed?"

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her, picking her and dropping her up on the bed, right near the pillows and the headboard, and came over her, supporting his weight on his ridiculous arms. 

"Why do you ask?"

Her eyes narrowed at him as he settled between her legs, his erection laying between their bodies. "Just curious."

That annoying eyebrow went up higher and his dimple peeked out. "Curious or jealous?"

She shifted her eyes away, looking at his Bratva tattoo, and he kissed her neck. "You forget I was there when you claimed me as your own with Sonya, солнешко."

"So what if I was jealous?" she muttered defensively.

She felt his smile against her skin as he littered kisses on her neck. "I wanted to pin you to the wall and claim you as my own, too. But I told you, you have nothing to be jealous about."

Felicity pouted, watching them in the mirror. That mirror was going to be the death of her. He was so big next to her body, he literally encompassed her own reflection, his tanned skin a stark contrast to her.

"You didn't answer, ah, my question," she reminded him, his small bites on her neck, with his rasping stubble, spiking her heart rate again.

He pulled back and looked down at her, the playful smile on his face so rare. "No, Felicity. The only woman on this bed has been you. I never brought any woman here."

She swallowed, her body relaxing, not understanding why this was so important to her and she nodded. "Good. Because I would totally have gone to some other room for the night. And burned this bed in the morning. I don't want to be just another woman on this..."

"You are not just another woman, Felicity," Oliver interrupted her, his eyes intense. "You are my wife. My very possessive wife."

"Yeah, well you are one to talk, Mr. I-will-punch-any-guy-who-looks-at-you-the-wrong-way," she commented.

"Then aren't we just perfect for each other?"

The smile on his face made her heart clench. She had never seen him smile so much, and right now, almost about to have sex but having this conversation, made her realize how beautiful he was when he did. It also made her realize how much more she wanted him to smile.

She shook her head and flexed her hips. "Now, get to it before you go soft Mr. Queen."

His lips twitched at her teasing, and he leaned down, whispering against her mouth. "I only have to look at you, Mrs. Smoak-Queen, to cure that."

Before she could reply, he kissed her again, slow and soft, checking her wetness with his fingers again. Well, that was not a problem. Having him just breathe on her made her wet. She was hopeless that way.

He pulled back and sat on his knees, almost leaving the bed.

"Where are you going?" she demanded, confused.

"Just to get a condom," he replied, rubbing her calf tenderly.

"No need, I'm on the pill. Not because I was going to have sex, well obviously I was someday. That day is today. But it's for my lady cycle."

Oliver frowned. "Are you...?"

Felicity pursed her lips. "If you finish that sentence, I will kill you."

He bit the inside of his cheek evidently, before coming back over her, looking down at her, looming over her and her heart stuttered at the intensity in his eyes. This was the moment.

She felt him line himself up, rubbing her nether lips, teasing, the void in her weeping to be filled. 

The regret in his eyes made her blink. "This will hurt, солнешко. I am sorry. I'll try to keep it as little as possible."

Carding her fingers through his hair, she kissed him once and spoke from her heart. "I trust you, Oliver."

She watched his eyes flutter closed at her words before he opened them again, a look of determined concentration on his face.

She felt his thickness penetrate her just slightly, her breath catching and body tensing at the intrusion.

"Relax yourself, Felicity," he said from above her, kissing her mouth softly. "Relax. Accept me. Relax your muscles. Just like that. Yes. Relax, солнешко."

She felt her body responding to his voice like it always did, felt her tensed muscles loosening and felt him enter her a little more, her walls stretching around him. He kept on entering, slowly, and her breath was hitched, feeling every muscle inside her clamp over him.

And then, she felt him stop, felt her own barrier stopping him from going any further. She looked up at him with wide eyes, not knowing how to prepare herself for the pain, and he looked back at her, the same concentrated look on his face. They stared like that for a minute before, without any warning, he pushed in hard, burying himself to the hilt.

The white hot jolt of pain made her claw at him and cry out sharply, her mouth opening as she breathed through it, the pain disappearing, being replaced just by the discomfort of having his completely inside her.

Oliver was completely still, motionless, above her, letting her adjust to his size, whispering, "I'm sorry for the pain."

She kept breathing through her mouth for a while, looking back at him. "Just for the pain?"

His eyes heated and she felt his biceps flex as he made an effort not to jar her. "Just for the pain."

And then she felt it, felt him, completely. He was buried deep inside her, completely to the hilt, and she had taken him in. She could feel his erection throbbing inside her, pulsing like a live thing, and the heat slowly coiled back inside her. Pulling him down, she rubbed her chest against his, kissing him wildly on the mouth, her sudden need to have him move taking her by surprise. 

"Move in me, Oliver," she whispered, locking eyes with him again. 

He looked conflicted, still doubtful if she had adjusted completely and she knew how to trigger him into motion, knew what she wanted too. 

"Make me yours."

It was like she had said the magic words. He plundered her mouth with his, slowly pulling his hips back, vacating her, making her groan at her sensation, before slowly moving back in again, the soft thrust making her breath catch. He moved slowly for a while, every gentle thrust giving her only a peek of the pleasure she could feel and she unlocked their mouths. 

"Harder, Oliver," she whispered as he latched onto her neck, biting and laving and biting again. 

She looked up at the mirror, watching him move over her, his his moving in and out of her, feeling what she was seeing on the ceiling in sync, and her hunger for him tore at her. The reflection of his being so gentle was making her crave for the wildness she knew he was capable of, the the complete possession she knew he could make her feel. 

"C'mon, Oliver," she muttered, meeting his own soft thrusts with a little hard ones. "Faster."

"Felicity," he growled against her neck, in slight warning, and she knew how hard he was controlling himself to be gentle with her. It wasn't going to stick if she had any say in the matter. 

She flexed her hips, feeling him enter her again, and clamped her walls down on him, _hard._  

A rough curse left him and he bit her jaw in retaliation, his pace increasing but only slightly. Stupid control.

He came back in again and she clamped again, deliberately, squeezing him as hard as she could and suddenly, his control snapped. 

With another growl from his chest, he hiked her legs high over him, wrapping them around his back and thrust down in her, hard. 

The changed angle, the changed pace, the thrust made her nails dig into his shoulders as she cried out, her nerves on fire, her core needing him like she had never needed anything before. 

"Oliver, please," she whimpered and he pulled out almost completely, pushing in again. 

"Don't make me get too rough, Felicity," he ground out into her skin. 

The idea of him unleashing that roughness was luring her. It was sinful.

Keeping her eyes on the mirror, panting, she met him back, thrust for thrust. "I can take it, Oliver. Don't hold back. Please."

"Felicity..."

She pulled his head up by his hair, pinning him with her lustful gaze. "You have wanted me for so long. You have me now. Under you. Do what you want to me. Make me scream, Oliver."

With a rumble deep from his chest, he pulled out of her, keeping their gazes locked and entered her to the hilt in one motion. Her jaw trembled from the impact and her eyes closed as he pulled out and pushed in, hammering her hips, his pace increasing with every downward thrust, getting faster and faster. His lips came down on hers and she opened her mouth, allowing him to plunge his tongue as he plunged his cock in her, over and over again, meeting him for every thrust, flexing her hips to increase the friction, her walls clamping on him automatically. 

"Fuck, you are so tight," he muttered, burying his face in her neck again and she looked up on the mirror, seeing the way his hips pistoned into hers, his tight butt flexing on each downward stroke, his magnificent back covering her entirely, her own legs wrapped high up around it, how fast he was moving, and the visual added so much more eroticism to the moment, the heat flowing in her blood now.

"Oliver," she cried out as he suddenly hit the elusive sweet spot inside her that she had only read about, her vision blacking out for a second from the pleasure. Before she could recover completely, he hit the spot again, and again and again, her cries getting louder with each time, her fingers gripping onto him harder and harder, her body inflaming and the need for release coiling right where he hit her each time, her swollen clit rubbing against his pelvis, increasing her pleasure, her spine tingling.

And on his fifth thrust, she screamed his name so loudly, uncaring for who had heard, and came all around him, pleasure exploding her body and her nerves, her walls squeezing and clenching all around him, her body shaking as he kept on thrusting, kept on hitting her spot and her orgasm didn't stop. She started shaking her head, the pleasure becoming too much for her body, knowing she wouldn't be able to take another orgasm, just as she burst into a smaller one, feeling him swell inside her before he came, her name wrenched from his chest, biting her neck hard and spilling inside her. His arms shook and he collapsed on her, his body slightly shaking, his face buried in her hair. 

Their breathing slowed down gradually, as he pulled himself out of her, making a groan escape her before she could stop it, her muscles already feeling sore but so good. 

He shifted to the side, lying beside her, and looked at her, the happiness in his eyes making her heart clench. 

He got up, moving off the bed and going to the bathroom. She was too tired to even move a muscle, much less get up. She closed her eyes, a small smile on her lips when she felt something cold down there. 

She looked in surprise to see Oliver, cleaning her gently, with a wet washcloth, and something inside her clicked at his gesture. 

He cleaned her completely and she let him, not saying a word, just observing, and he left after he was done, returning after a moment and getting in the bed with her, pulling her across into his side. 

She flushed at the contact, which was ridiculous considering what they had just done, but her brain was disconnected momentarily with her body.

He kissed her softly once, locking their gazes together.

"I had never thought you would be so gentle," she teased him softly.

His hand tightened around her, pulling her flush against him, tangling their legs together. "And I had never thought I'd get this night with you."

She sobered, looking at his earnest eyes, seeing how truly he had believed that and she snuggled into his warmth.

"Yeah, well, you can't blame a girl for succumbing to her hot husband."

His lips curved up softly and she kissed his chest, right above his heart. "Thank you, Oliver."

He tangled their fingers together, resting his ring against hers, pecking her softly again, before closing his eyes.  

She saw his face relax in sleep, tiredness taking over him. 

She saw the face of the boy who had broken her heart, and the face of the man who had done everything to heal it again. She saw the face of the man who people feared and women desired for his power. She saw the face of the man who gave her pleasure beyond she could have imagined and took care of her like nobody ever had. The face of the man who shared his rare smiles and heated looks only with her. The face of the man who stood like a pillar when she was threatening her father but who stood between them like a shield when her father threatened her. 

She saw the face of the young boy who had made mistakes and paid the price for it that nobody should. She saw the face of the strong man who had defied the odds and fought to survive. She saw the face of the man who had protected her knowing he would never tell her that, knowing she would hate him perhaps for the rest of his life. 

This was the face of the man who had become her husband against her will, but with whom she had consummated her marriage tonight out of choice.

This was the face of the man, who, without her realizing it, had slowly started to worm his way into her heart again.

And for the first time, she was not scared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
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	20. Glowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I'm so sorry for being slightly late on the update. 
> 
> And thank you so much for the absolute love you guys gave me for the last chapter. As nervous as I had been, your comments and messages reassured me so much. Thank you!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one. Stuff happens.
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> Happy reading!!!

Felicity rolled over with a groan, feeling muscles in her body she hadn't even known had existed till this morning. 

She felt Oliver slowly trace her spine like he had taken to doing, and involuntarily pressed her still naked body into his. The morning light filtered in through the curtains, keeping the room in semi-darkness.

Felicity looked up at him and raised her hand, tracing his jaw with her fingers, and his sleepy eyes drifted open, a sleepy smile tugging on his lips. He looked at her for long moments, his fingers tracing her naked skin well below her waist before coming back up, the sleepiness slowly fading as his gaze became sharper.

"Are you sore?" he asked in that sleepy, low voice that had somehow attached itself right to her groin sometime last night.

She flushed a little at the question, which was ridiculous considering how intimate the had been, and Oliver raised a hand to her warm cheek, pulling the one on her lip closer. "Tell me."

Her breathing fastened and she looked at his throat, shrugging. The heat pooling at the juncture of her thighs told her to keep her mouth shut. She felt her husband sigh and start to pull back and clasped her hands to him, keeping him in place.

"Oliver..." she began but he shook his head firmly.

"No, Felicity. Not until you heal."

Frustration rose within her in a wave and she swamped it down, pushing on his chest while hiking her leg around his waist, putting him on his back, and knowing his strength like she did and how he had flipped her like a pancake multiple times last night, she knew that he let her. Straddling him, feeling his naked body under her, rubbing her breasts over his chest, rejoicing in the hiss that followed it, she flexed her hips instinctively and his hands shot up to hold her waist still, completely immobilizing her hips. Knowing how this was affecting him, feeling the evidence of his growing arousal against her stomach, she leaned down, lining her mouth beside his ear and nibbled slowly on his lobe.

"Look up, Oliver," she whispered as seductively as she could, running her hands over his chest. "Look at the two of us. Naked. Entwined."

She heard his breath hitch as he did and smiled, feeling bolder than she ever had. She had no reason to be ashamed. This was her husband and they had shared so much intimacy last night and she finally did trust him.

"This is what I looked at last night," she continued in the same husky voice. "When you were going down on me. When you head was buried south. When you were moving in me. When you wrapped my legs over your waist. When you pounded. This is what I was looking at and it was glorious. Look at that mirror, Oliver. See me move."

Suddenly, she was flat on her back with him looming over her, his eyes fevered like hers probably were, and he growled low, letting her look up at the mirror as he moved to her ear.

"You want me, Felicity?" he started and continued before she could answer. "And have me you will. I will take you anywhere you want, anytime you want, however you want."

Felicity's heart thumped wildly and her hands tightened on his biceps. He continued. "I will take you so hard and so fast your head will spin with the number of times you came and I will take you so slowly you'll beg me to go faster. Oh, I will take you, солнешко, over and over and over again, till you forget what's it is like not having me inside you."

Her cheeks were so heated and her pulse pounding so hard it was a miracle she wasn't attacking him already. Not that she could. He had pancaked her again.

Oliver pulled back, looking down at her with heated eyes, his bedroom voice making her wetter than she was, his words making her chest heave. "Oh, I will have you, Felicity. But only after you heal. I can't take any pleasure knowing you'd be in pain. So heal, and I'll do whatever you want me to."

She groaned at his pigheadedness, slumping down on the pillow, scowling at him. "You won't have sex with me again?"

"Not while you are sore, no," he replied firmly.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to trigger his possessiveness and get the wild side out. "You know that I can just take a handsome man and do what I wish? I know what my body is capable of now."

Oliver's lips tugged up, clearly calling her out on her bluff and he spoke softly. "Yes, but none of them will have what I do?"

She raised her eyebrows, ready to smack him if he referred in the slightest to his size, either of his ego or his erection. "And what is that?"

"A ceiling mirror."

Felicity blinked at him before laughter burst out from her and she clutched his neck, laughing in fits, shaking her head. She looked up to see him smiling softly down at her and shook her head again. "You are incorrigible."

"And you have a thing for the mirror," he said. "Don't think I didn't notice last night."

She looked at him, grinning, completely unabashed in her desires. "So, no sex till my lady parts aren't swollen. Okay. Can you at least kiss me? On the mouth I meant. Although I did mean something else last night, but it..."

Her words were swallowed by his mouth moving over hers, and she realized how swollen her lips were as well. Ignoring it, she pulled on his hair, kissing him with fervor, and he kissed her back, the passion between them erupting as they pressed into each other, the hunger for him gnawing inside her. 

She spread her legs slightly, wrapping them around him and Oliver pulled back with a grumble. "You are making this hard for me, солнешко."

A devious grin took her face. "That's the idea, Oliver. Hard is good."

This time, it was he who burst out laughing, shaking his head at her. "I have unleashed a monster, haven't I?"

"Oh, you have no idea, Mr. Queen," she grinned back, pecking him on the lips again, elated that she could, whenever she wanted. 

Oliver pulled away and hopped off the bed in a smooth motion, his naked body bare to her eyes. He came around the bed to her side and she looked at him in surprise, seeing how hard he still was. Swooping down, he picked her up in his arms, a small shriek leaving her and her arms coming around his neck to hold onto him, knowing he'd never drop her. 

He walked into the bathroom, setting her down on her feet in front of the mirror and went ahead, so confident in his nakedness, towards the tub and started filling it. Felicity shuffled on her feet, turning towards the mirror and a gasp left her, her eyes widening. Roving over her body, her eyes mapped her once clear skin. It was now littered with small red marks, some pink, some deep red, from her inner thighs to her hips to her breasts and her neck to her face. Her neck. 

Oh boy, she looked like she had been a meal on the buffet and Oliver had helped himself to multiple servings. He had literally eaten her and marked her and a part of her was mad beyond belief at his barbaric act and another part was aroused beyond belief. She just stood there, staring at the different shades of different marks on her body, the memory behind each one assaulting her. Hickeys. Beard burns. Bee stung mouth. She was married to one of the most dangerous men of the Bratva and he had given her dang hickeys and beard burns and chewed her lips out. 

She turned to look at him to find him watching her carefully, his own eyes mapping the bite and nibble marks with something very possessive flashing in his eyes. She wouldn't put it past him. He was a self proclaimed possessive man. And the way his eyes scrutinized her body, it was unnerving her, making her slightly conscious despite everything. 

"This is not okay, Oliver," she turned to the mirror, trying to cover herself very subtly, changing the subject. "I have to go out and meet people, you know. And these giant marks are so not going to be covered by concealer. Everyone will know I had wild sex with my wild husband just looking at my neck, not to mention the rest of my body!"

She looked up in the mirror as he stepped behind her, pulling her arms away from her body, apparently having noticed her slight bout of nerves. Well, obviously he had. Did anything even get past the man? 

"Felicity," he said softly, his eyes locked on hers in the reflection. "The only one seeing this body is going to be me. As for the marks," he shrugged and she narrowed her eyes. 

"Oliver, if we are going to have sex..."

"When we are going to have sex," he corrected. 

"Fine," she said. "When. You need to lighten up on the hickeys."

Oliver's eyes pierced hers and he asked. "Do they hurt?"

She blinked back at him. "No. They kind of throb but they don't hurt."

Oliver relaxed and gave a non-committal shrug that had her raising her eyebrows. Her eyes went to the now full tub and she watched as Oliver climbed in, leaning against the rim, and looked at her expectantly. 

They were taking a bath together. Okay, nerves and butterflies. Taking a deep breath, she stepped over to the tub and looked down, not understanding which way to sit and how to get in. It was a really big tub but still. 

Oliver smiled up at her and raised his hand, extending it to her and she took it without hesitation, trusting him to guide her through this as well. She stepped into the tub, the hot water tickling her skin, and looked at him. 

"Sit down. Against me," Oliver ordered softly and she bit her lip, sitting down between his legs, gripping the sides of the tub as the hot water washed over her body, a groan leaving her as the movement pulled at the muscles between her legs. 

Oliver's hands came up to hers, easing her grip on the tub and his low voice reached her ear. "Lean back against me, солнешко."

She did and felt the hot water lapping up to her neck, his hard, muscular body behind her. Oliver's hands traced her sides as he pressed soft, feather kisses on her neck, right over the marks. 

"I have wanted this for so long," he muttered against her skin and she felt her heart clench.

"We could have had this way sooner had you told me the truth in the beginning," she whispered back, without any accusation.

"And would you have believed me at all?"

She sighed, "No."

Oliver continued pressing kisses on her neck, his stubble rasping over her skin, sending tingles down her spine. The hot water was softly massaging her sore muscles, feeling so relaxing that she leaned into him completely. 

After a few seconds, she felt him hook his legs under hers, and spread her wide, the hot water now lapping right at her core, a mewl escaping her at the sensation. She knew he was doing this because the hot water on her sore muscles would relax her but it wasn't. It was wounding her up tighter and the heat was pooling low in her belly and she could still feel him hard at her back and she had had enough. 

She turned her neck, offering her mouth up for a kiss and he didn't disappoint, softly twining their lips together, sipping from her very tenderly, like he didn't want to cause her any more discomfort. The gesture touched her but she needed him to touch her too. She held his hands, and put them straight on her breasts, squeezing them though his huge hands and arching into it. 

He took over, softly massaging her breasts, pinching her nipple, the sensation shooting straight to her core, all the while kissing her softly. He continued this for minutes, doing nothing more and she felt herself getting frustrated. 

"Oliver," she hissed at him and he removed his hands, resting them on her waist, the regret in his eyes too stark to not be genuine. "Trust me, Felicity. I'd love nothing more than to give you the pleasure you want right now. But you are so sensitive, you won't be able to walk properly. I need you to heal too, to know."

Oh, he had blue balls too. That gave her a weird sense of satisfaction, that she was not alone in this sexual frustration. 

With a huff, she leaned back against him, in a state of constant arousal, and closed her eyes, relishing his hard body and the hot water.

 

                                                           --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The state of constant arousal had continued throughout the day, but it had been pushed on the back burner on occasions. 

Roy was ahead of his healing schedule, and he was recuperating really well. When Felicity had gone to see him in the morning, wearing a dress, dark lipstick to cover up her swollen mouth and a scarf around her neck, understanding what Oliver had meant by it being hard to walk, because holy pygmy puff, her muscles were reminding her with every step exactly what she had done last night in Technicolor. Like she had needed that too. Roy had looked at the scarf, grinning, and Felicity had shrugged him off in a blase manner, quickly escaping before he could say anything. And wherever she had gone in the house, people had looked at the scarf like it was a board in neon saying "I just had sex last night and this scarf is to cover up marks that my very enthusiastic husband left on my neck and concealers raised their white flags for".

Well, that's probably exactly what it implied but seriously, hadn't these people ever seen a scarf for goodness' sake!

She had walked into Thea who had grinned openly, raising her eyebrows, made a witty comment and Felicity had fled. Then Diggle had made it worse just by twitching his lips and raising his eyebrows and Felicity had grit her teeth and entered Oliver's study, to talk about Ilyich.

And that had been the last straw.

She stood as he looked at her scarf, then back at her, his annoying eyebrow high on his head and she snapped.

"Don't you dare give me that look!" she said, walking to his desk, a finger pointed at him. "It is because of you that I have to wear a scarf on a hot day."

His lips twitched and she glared at him. "Felicity, your scarf is moot."

She folded her arms across herself. "Really, and why is that?"

His eyes softened on her face. "Because there is a small see-through portion."

Her eyes widened as she looked down, ripping it away from her neck and checked. How the hell had she missed it?!

"It's all your fault. Dang heat of the moment!" she muttered, folding the scarf in a way to avoid the see-through portion.

The door opened and she wrapped the scarf quickly around her neck. A man peeked in.

"Anatoly Knyazev is here to see you, Mr. Queen," he said.

Felicity stilled and her gaze flew to her husband's, who nodded at him, coming from behind his desk and standing beside her.

A few seconds later, the door opened and Anatoly came in, smiling at Felicity. "Моя милая принцесса."

Felicity walked over to him, hugging him tightly. "My favorite uncle."

He pulled away to shake hands with Oliver, who then directed them to the sofas on the other side of the room.

Felicity sat down beside Oliver, feeling his arm behind her on the head rest, and Anatoly sat opposite them, looking at both.

"Firstly," he began in his Russian accent, "I want to thank you, Oliver. I am happy that I did not lie when I told Felicity you were a good man. You proved it again. You have earned my gratitude and loyalty for life."

Oliver nodded, not saying anything, letting Anatoly continue. "Secondly, after you left, I spoke to Viktor. About Ilyich. And tried to find whatever I could about the man. Viktor told me that since Felicity married you, Ilyich is not happy with him and he has gone out of touch with him, because he was supposed to have her, and he will come for her, dead or alive."

"That won't be happening," Oliver stated firmly.

Anatoly nodded. "I agree. What have you planned?"

Oliver kept his hard mask up, the one she had seen him use with all Bratva members, no hint of the tender lover or the playful man from the morning in his face. "I am planning to shut down Ilyich, completely, like I had meant to do years ago. But I cannot locate him."

Anatoly rubbed his chin, thoughtful. "There might be something."

Felicity felt herself lean forward. "What?"

Anatoly looked at both of them, speaking in a quiet voice. "A few months ago, I heard of this man who handled everything for Ilyich. Yulian Olegovich."

She felt Oliver tense slightly and turned to him. "You know him?"

He shook his head. "I know someone who works for him." He nodded at Anatoly. "Continue."

Anatoly took a deep breath. "Now, Viktor is the one who handled the human side of the business. Yulian is rumored to handle the drugs. And he had been with Ilyich for a very long time. So, we find Yulian." 

Oliver nodded, his right hand fingers rubbing together in a tic she had come to recognize in him. "Where can we find him?"

Anatoly held up his hand and took out his phone, calling someone, talking rapidly in Russian. Felicity felt herself tensing more and more and suddenly Oliver's hand was on her spine, stroking it, soothing her. She looked up at him, her hand on his thigh, and smiled softly. 

Cutting the call, Anatoly spoke again and Felicity turned her attention back to him. "Yulian is not in town. He's coming in a few days."

Oliver cursed and Felicity pat his leg, speaking. "Do you know if these guys use computers? For information?"

She felt Oliver's sharp gaze on her and Anatoly frowned. "As a matter of fact they do. The accounts are hard to keep."

"So that means there might be something worth looking for in the computers?"

Anatoly nodded. "Yes, there would. And in fact, there is a party tonight, the invitation for which we got a month ago. The venue is Yulian's house."

Felicity leaned forward, excitement raking over. "So, we can go to the party and I can infiltrate their computer system and get whatever information we need to dismantle Ilyich."

Oliver cleared his throat and she looked at his angry eyes. "You are not going into the house of Ilyich's associate, Felicity."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes I am. In case if you forgot, I am not safe anywhere. My father was an associate. He got me in this mess. So, I am going."

Oliver clenched his jaw and turned to Anatoly. "Could you get an invitation for me?"

Anatoly nodded, looking between the two of them curiously. "And Viktor will be there as well. So will I."

Oliver stood up, shaking his hand. "I'll be in touch."

Anatoly shook back his hand. "I'll let you know."

He then hugged Felicity one more time, his eyes lingering on her scarf, and left with a smile.

Felicity waited for the door to shut and saw Oliver go behind his desk again, following him angrily.

"I am going to that party, Oliver," she stated, crossing her arms across her chest.

"No, you are not," he replied, opening a file.

"Oh, yes, I am."

He looked up at her, pinning her with his cool blue gaze and she glared back, not budging an inch. "You want me safe? Awesome. I want me safe too. And the only way we can do that is by getting Ilyich off my back as soon as possible."

Suddenly, he had her sitting on the desk, stepping between her legs, his arms beside her thighs, caging her in.

He looked at her, completely serious and intense. "I am not going to let you walk into the lion's den, Felicity."

She looked at him, sighing, knowing he wouldn't get it with anger. She softly touched his hair, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Oliver, you'll be there with me. So will DIgg and Anatoly. I'll be fine."

Oliver searched her eyes for long minutes, and she knew he would find nothing but certainty in her gaze. She believed him. In him.

"I know you'll keep me safe," she muttered.

"I will."

She smiled softly. "Then what's the problem?"

He leaned his forehead against hers. "The problem is that every instinct in me wants to keep you away from even the possibility of a threat."

Her heart clenched at his words and she rubbed his nose in an Eskimo kiss. "Then, let's put Ilyich down."

Oliver sighed, his shoulders slumping and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair, communicating everything without actually saying anything at all. Felicity hugged him tighter, letting him take whatever reassurance he needed, knowing this was as hard for him as it was for her, and that knowledge actually gave her the strength she needed. He was here with her. She pulled him closer.

 

                                  ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Felicity got dressed in a black chiffon gown with lace sleeves and a deep back. The one scandalizing feature of the gown was the split on her leg that went almost to her hip. She pulled her hair up in a sleek chignon, and was dabbing her neck with another layer of concealer, standing in front of the bathroom mirror when she heard Oliver call out her name. She gave herself a once over, feeling good, looking good, and walked out on her gold heels, stopping dead in her tracks. 

Oliver stood looking through his phone, in black crisp trousers, a white crisp shirt, and suspenders. He was wearing fucking suspenders and standing there like her ovaries were not doing a samba inside her body. Her eyes roved over his taut muscles, highlighted by the stark white of his shirt, muscles that she had felt flexing under her hands, muscles whose power she knew. She stood there, salivating, feeling the dull throbbing in her core become an ache.

He looked up at her, and stilled, his own eyes doing a lot of roving before coming back to hers, heated and mirroring exactly what she was feeling, the bulge in his pants getting a little more obvious. With her eyes locked on his, she sauntered forward, adding an extra sway to her hips and stood in front of him, giving him enough time to tell her no. He didn't say a thing, just watched her with those fevered blue eyes.

"I have always wanted to try something," she murmured, callback to last night before she ripped his shirt open.

She saw him raise his eyebrow but stay silent. She put her hands on his chest, feeling the tensed muscle, the hard pecs under the cotton, her hands traveling across the expanse of his torso before her hands found their mark. She gripped the suspenders in her fist and pulled, hard, watching the surprise flare in his eyes momentarily before she touched his lips.

"FYI," she whispered against his mouth. "I have a thing for suspenders too."

With that, she planted her mouth more solidly with his, craning her neck despite her heels to kiss him, and suddenly, she felt his hand go under the split on her gown, hiking her leg over his hips and his other hand press into the small of her back. She knew he had wanted to bury it in her hair but had stopped himself from ruining it and she smiled against his lips, opening her mouth for him, gripping his suspenders tighter and pulling on them harder.

They kissed like that for long minutes, just making out like two lust-crazed lovers, still mindful of each others clothing (except her- she had no regards whatsoever for his suspenders). The hot clash of tongues slowly transformed into something softer, the sounds coming from her matched by his hard breathing, and he pulled away, breathing heavily.

"We need to leave now if you don't want me to rip that dress off you," he ground out through gritted teeth.

A giggle left her at his words, at how on edge he was, and with a sudden burst of courage, she put her hand right over his erection, feeling it in her hand for the first time.

He hissed and then growled out her name, his hand clasping around her wrist, stopping any movement.

"I'll let go on one condition," she said softly, caressing him, feeling him grow bigger.

He breathed through his mouth. "What?"

She leaned up against his mouth again. "Tonight, when we get home, you rip this dress off me and we have sex. Great sex. I'm better."

Oliver looked at her, the wild look in his eyes so primitive that she felt for a second he would do so just then. But he leaned in, plundering her mouth in a rough, wild kiss before stepping away and straightening himself, picking up his jacket while she picked up her clutch.

They exited the room and went down the stairs, Oliver speaking for a moment to Thea, who complimented her on her dress before getting in the Bentley with Diggle at the wheel.

Felicity crossed her legs on purpose, the slit revealing her entire leg to the hip almost, and felt Oliver's eyes on the skin. She smiled deviously at her handsome husband, looking outside the window when she felt Oliver's hand on the leg. 

He was looking outside as well, but his thumb kept rubbing circles on the flesh, the need in her coiling tighter and tighter with every circle of his thumb. Was it possible to come just from the caress of a thumb? Or spontaneously combust? Both seemed highly likely now.

They discussed the plan along the way, like they had the afternoon, and Felicity just dreaded seeing her father again, with her clueless mother. 

The car pulled up in front of a huge iron gate which opened and then they entered the grounds of a huge mansion, larger than her own home. 

Digg nodded at both of them, stopping the car. "I'll just park it out."

Oliver nodded, opening his door and coming to her side, giving her his hand. She looked up at him, exiting the car, her leg peeking out, and took a deep breath. 

She felt Oliver's hand slide around her waist, familiar and safe, and gave herself a nod, sliding her own around his. 

With a soft reassuring squeeze, they entered the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
> Моя милая принцесса - My Little Princess  
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	21. Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> I'm so sorry for being slightly late on the update. 
> 
> And thank you so much for the absolute patience you guys have. Here's the reward. ;)
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Felicity's eyes scanned the house. Very huge. And very tasteful. 

This Yulian guy might be a creep of the highest order but she could admit to him being a tasteful creep. Unless it had been an interior decorator and the man had no taste at all. The foyer was done in deep beige and cream, with two doormen dressed in royal blue uniforms welcoming the many guests inside the house with a flourish. Showmanship, huh. Felicity held onto Oliver's waist and walked in confidently, her eyes taking everything around her. The foyer finished and opened up into a huge hall, ornately decorated in the same beige but with black and cream. A set of tall windows were to one side, a French balcony on the other. A huge chandelier dangled from the center of the ceiling. So much money. Blood money. Like the one she had been brought up on.

Feeling the same discomfort she felt every time she thought of it, she shook it off and saw the horde of women welcoming the guests, especially the male guests, into the area, dressed in blood red same dresses. Seeing a few women eye Oliver, Felicity pressed herself closer to him, feeling his arm tighten on her waist, and smiled sweetly at the women. They backed off. Good. 

Walking in, she saw the champagne flowing freely on the trays and she marveled at the fact that she didn't even know what the party was for. And it was a party. Men in expensive suits and women in expensive jewellery buzzed around the place, some familiar from over years of parties, some complete strangers. The further they walked the more she could feel Oliver's body tense beside her. Knowing how adamantly against the idea he had been since the beginning, she quietly rubbed his side soothingly, reassuring him while keeping a smile pasted on her face. 

Felicity saw two men, dressed in high end suits with high end women on their arms, head towards them, mainly towards Oliver. They came and looked her up an down before addressing Oliver, discussing some business matter or the other, and Felicity tuned them out, looking around the hall, mentally mapping out the likely place the office would be, only Oliver's thumb rubbing her hip in circles keeping her from shuffling like she wanted to.

The men left, after exchanging polite smiles with her once they knew she was the wife (and not the mistress like the men in this world usually kept). And that reminded her of something that she had been wanting to ask him for a long time, but never had gotten the chance to.

"Oliver?" she said quietly.

He gazed down at her, with those blue eyes and that look which made her feel warm and cocooned. She tilted her head. "You once told me that your men knew better than to look at me in a certain way, that you had ensured it."

He raised an eyebrow, silently saying a loud 'So?'

She rolled her eyes. "So, what did you do to ensure that?"

His expression became wary and her antennas stood on alert. "What did you do, Oliver?"

He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Anatoly coming to their side, and she saw Oliver don back his hard mask, the one he always wore with most people.  

Anatoly accompanied his beautiful wife, Tania, who had been a surrogate mother to her growing up, just like Anatoly had been another father, much better than her own she realized ruefully. They had loved her like their child and she smiled seeing them, missing them so much. Tania hugged her tightly, keeping her at arms length to scrutinize her with her warm brown eyes, in her lovely grey dress.

"Marriage becomes you, Felicity," she commented, casting her gaze at Oliver. "She glows. This makes me happy."

Oliver tilted his head with a small smile, looking down at her, his arm tightening possessively over her waist. "She has always glowed, Mrs. Knyazev."

Felicity looked up at him, seeing something bare for her eyes only, the look that made her think of beds and mirrors and baths and basically every flat surface she could think of, and her breath hitched. She heard Anatoly clear his throat as he looked at them, and Felicity blushed, fidgeting slightly, willing her mind out of the gutter.

Tania chat with her for a few minutes, asking her about the marriage and the house, before making her way to someone else, leaving them alone with Anatoly. Suddenly serious, Anatoly took the two of them in. 

"The study in is the third corridor to the right," he began softly. "There are two men guarding it. You'll have to be quick and get out before others come. Explaining your presence might be difficult in the room."

Nodding solemnly, Felicity paused, looking around. "Where is father?"

It was the first time she was referring to the man like that. He wasn't Dad anymore. 

Anatoly sighed. "He is not coming. He told your mother he was not well."

Seeing the way Anatoly's mouth twisted in bitter anger, she felt slightly placated. She nodded again and watched Anatoly leave after clapping Oliver on the shoulder. Feeling Oliver guiding her towards the end of the hall, she started walking.

They made their way slowly, going towards the second corridor and she understood that Oliver would scale it to go into the next one. Being careful, while a few people stopped Oliver and made small talk, she covertly scanned the room for eyes on them and saw three guards watching them. Yulian's men. They'd have to get out real fast. And this felt more and more like a bad idea by the minute.

She gulped and continued to walk to the corridor, speaking almost imperceptibly. "Oliver, there are men watching us go in."

Oliver didn't stop. "I know."

She looked up at him in confusion, frowning. "So, what are we going to do? We can't just walk in like that."  

Oliver didn't reply but they were almost at the corridor and suddenly, he pushed her against the wall at the start, in view of part of the hall, and her heart hammered as she understood.

"Seriously?" she raised her eyebrows despite her thundering pulse. "That's your genius plan? Make them think we are two bunnies looking to jack hammer?"

A corner of his mouth curled up at her words and he shrugged, his big hand clasping around her thigh over the raunchy slit, and hiking it over his hips, pushing into her. Despite the situation, she could feel his rapidly hardening erection and her breath faltered, her hands going under his jacket, her fingers tightening around his suspenders. Dang suspenders. She rubbed herself against him, knowing this was for show, but still getting hotter by the second because this was Oliver and he had made her panties bunch since forever just by breathing.

He suddenly pulled back, grinding against her one last time, and pulled her by the hand inside the corridor. To any prying eyes who had seem them dry hump each other, it would seem like they were looking to do the deed. Which they were. But not here, despite the tasteful house. Nope. In their own house. Bed. With the mirror. Flat surfaces. Technicalities.

Shaking her head at her fused brain, she followed his lead, turning right with him towards a darker, narrower corridor.

Oliver pushed her against the wall again (he seriously had a thing with walls and her and that had her thinking of flat surfaces again), and looked down at her intensely.

"I have a bad feeling about this, солнешко," he whispered softly. "Let's go back. We can find Ilyich some other way." 

Felicity's stomach turned at his uncertainty. She took his face in her hands, looking up at him solemnly. "Oliver, this is the biggest chance we'll get. And it'll take only two minutes for me on that computer. We can go back then."

He pressed their foreheads together, his hands gripping her waist, and ground out roughly. "You get this done and I swear I will not let you out of the bed for a week."

Her blood heated even as she smiled. "Is that a bribe?"

"A promise," he said just as seriously.

She bit her lip, marveling at how quickly this man could arouse her and make her combust. He leaned in, biting the lip she had bitten, kissing her so softly. She moaned and pulled him closer, and felt the tenor of the kiss change. It was still slow, but the softness was gone, replaced by an intensity she associated with him, firing her blood even more. Their tongues melded and danced with each other but he kept kissing her like he was chasing something away, holding her like he wouldn't let go. And it was scaring her. Not his intensity, but this kiss. This was the kind of kiss lovers shared when they knew they wouldn't see each other again. And it was scaring her big time.

She let him kiss her for long minutes, kissing him back fervently, her heart hammering in her chest in both arousal and fear, before they pulled away, needing air.

Slowly seeing his face harden, his fighting mode kick in, he kissed her one last time before straightening up, asking her silently to stay put.

She saw him lean over the wall, looking into the next corridor and mapping who was where, before he disappeared into it, quiet and smooth, like a panther on the prowl. Sounds of grunts and soft hits came before everything was silent. Curiosity bubbling in her, she wanted to peek in and see what was happening but he contained herself. He had asked her to stay put for good reason. She had to trust him and quench her curiosity. Inhaling deeply, she stayed against the wall, waiting as the seconds ticked by for him to come and give her the proverbial green light.

He didn't.

The twisting in her gut worsened and her nails dug into her palms as she took one step forward. Why wasn't he coming back?

Just as she was about to step into the corridor, everything else be damned, Oliver came back, breathing heavily, extending his hand to her. Inhaling her relief, she took it and walked hurriedly to a door in the middle of the dimly lit corridor, looking at the five unconscious men on the ground. Anatoly had said there would be only two. How the hell were there _five?_

She got into the room and felt Oliver enter behind her, quickly shutting the door. It was dark inside and she let her eyes acclimate for a second. Without any preamble, she hurried to the computer on the desk, taking a thumb drive out of her clutch and connecting it to the computer. While it loaded, her eyes went to the desk- there were pens and files and papers and a bottle on wine behind the computer. Seriously? Didn't these people know how bad liquids were with these systems? Amateurs. Shaking her head, she glanced briefly at Oliver who stood at the door, alert and tensed, and got back into the system in front of her, tapping away at the keys, looking for information on Ilyich.

And her search came across a file on the place of operation. Bingo.

Quickly transferring all the information to the drive, she looked around for any other thing she might have missed.

"How long?" Oliver's low voice asked, curt.

"Almost done," she replied, tapping away, finding nothing new except that one folder. Nodding, she quickly shut the computer down and put the thumb drive in her cleavage, coming around the desk just as the door burst open and five more men walked in.

Oliver quickly fought off two men, putting them on the ground while two other came around to detain him. The fifth man, clearly the leader, came towards her and she stepped back against the table, putting her hands behind her, feeling the desk for any weapon.

"Felicity Smoak," the man began in very thick Russian accent, smiling lewdly at her.

"It's Smoak-Queen," she corrected in a hard voice, her eyes drifting to Oliver where two men lay at his feet and two stood behind him with guns in their hands, trained at his head. She could see his body wound so tight, vibrating with the need to strike out the men in the room, and she knew he could in seconds. She had seen him best better and more men. But she shook her head imperceptibly, their gazes locked, telling him to wait. This leech in front of her might just still talk.

Speaking of the leech, tall but stout, wore an expensive suit, his dark beard trimmed close to his face, hiding a few scars that she could still see, his green eyes glacial, his smile making her skin crawl.

"You have been more trouble than you are worth," he said, stepping towards her, and Felicity felt that bottle of wine behind her, and thanked the amateurs who had left it there.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice frigid despite her trembling body.

The man chuckled in that evil way only villains could chuckle. "Ah, forgive my manners. I am Yulian and this is my home."

Yulian. This was Ilyich's right hand man. They had lucked out.

The man stepped into her personal space and her skin revolted, wanting to put distance between them. She stayed put, quiet. This man was an arrogant bastard and hopefully, he would gloat now, at having caught them. He might just reveal more.

"Ilyich heard you were looking for him," he continued, raising a finger and touching her cheek with it. She saw Oliver twitch, itching to put them down but shook her head.

Yulian grinned, his tobacco stained teeth looking ugly. "He has been looking for you too. Your father went back on his deal, gave you to Queen. But you were never Queen's. You had been Ilyich's for a long time. And he will have you."

Swallowing down bile, she looked at him in disgust, provoking him. "Really? He will?" 

"Oh yes," he said, turning to Oliver with a malicious grin. "He may even make you watch as he takes her. I am certain he will make you watch when she screams. Does she scream? Or is it a whimper? She is a small little thing, isn't she? Ilyich will break her open."

Oh boy. This man was dead. She looked at Oliver, who had already killed Yulian in his head in ways she couldn't even comprehend, from the looks of it. And now the man had sealed his fate. He was so dead. And her disgust with him didn't even make her feel sorry for this ugly piece of rat.

Felicity beseeched Oliver to hold on a little longer, seeing how close he was to snapping in the way his body was stilling. One thing she had learned about him was that when he was vibrating, moving, he was angry. His stillness was the danger. His stillness was a bone-deep rage. And right now, he was very still. She was pretty sure Yulian would have been dead minutes ago had it not been for her telling Oliver no. And she knew he wouldn't listen much longer. 

"Are you going to take me to Russia, now?" she asked, injecting worry in her voice. 

Yulian, like the sucker he was for big eyes, turned to her and laughed. "Russia? No. He has a base right here and he has been here for weeks, for you. You should be honored that he did all that for you."

Honored, her ass. 

Okay. So Ilyich was in the city. Good. She hated international flights. 

"So, you are telling me he has been near my house this entire time I have been married?" she asked, blinking up at him. 

The man grinned. "You have no idea how close he has been. And now you will. I will take you there."

He leaned in closer to her, the tobacco on his breath making her stomach convulse, her grip on the bottle tightening. "I might even take you in the car for myself. Wound Queen. And make him watch that too."

He mouth curled in disgust as she brought her hand out from behind her, smashing the bottle against his skull and watching Oliver finally unleash himself on the two distracted men, having them on the ground in seconds. 

"You bitch!"

Yulian surged forward, pulling his gun out, his head and suit drenched in red, wine or blood she didn't know. Before he had even taken a step, Oliver stepped in, holding the wrist of the hand with the gun, and snapping it, the crack loud in the room. 

"You touched her with your fingers, I broke your hand," Oliver muttered, his stance lethal as Yulian went on his knees, crying out in pain. 

Oliver bashed his head against the side of the desk, hitting him where the bottle had cracked. "You think of her, I break your head."

Yulian spit blood and looked at Oliver, stuttering. "You think this will stop him? My death will only make him madder."

Oliver pulled him up by the collar, saying in a low voice. "And that is exactly what I want. He will come out, make a mistake. And I will kill him."

Felicity watched in morbid fascination as Oliver wrapped his hands around Yulian's neck.

"Oliver..." she said softly, not knowing what she was asking. She knew the man had to die. He deserved to die.

"Turn away, Felicity," Oliver said harshly, without looking up.

"But..."

 _"Now!"_  

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, and turned her back to him, knowing Oliver didn't kill unless he had to, and this was important for catching Ilyich. In spite of knowing how this world operated, she still felt like an accessory to murder. Her hands trembled as she looked down, her body trembling as well, listening to the gurgling noises from behind her before they stopped.

A movement suddenly drew her eye and she watched in horror as a man on the ground picked up his gun, aiming right at Oliver's back. She looked in slow motion as he fired, realizing in an instant that he wouldn't be able to move fast enough, that she wouldn't be able to warn him fast enough, that the bullet was headed to do some serious damage. She saw it and without a second thought, pushed him out of the way, catching him off guard, and felt the impact on her shoulder.

A cry of pain left her, the burning sensation in her shoulder so much worse than she had imagined, the small bullet feeling so much bigger, and she found new appreciation who took bullets like it was a daily thing and no big deal. It felt like a fucking big deal. She inhaled and the burning spiked intolerably, the movement of her chest making the pain unbearable, and she couldn't stop breathing so the pain climbed higher.

"Fuck!"

Oliver. She saw though pained eyes as Oliver skidded on his knees to her, his face hard and brutal, unable to see his eyes in the dim lighting, wanting to see his eyes.

She took another breath and whimpered. "Can't breathe."

He didn't say anything, his face contorted in a bitter expression she didn't want on him, and suddenly he pressed down on the bullet and she screamed, harder than she had ever screamed, as white hot pain engulfed her. She tried to get away but he kept her in place, pressing on the wound to stop the bleeding, and she shook her head, the pain becoming too much for her.

She saw him take out his phone.

"Digg, I want the car out at the back, now! Felicity is shot," he said into it, hard and cold. Why was he being so hard and cold?

"Oli...ver..." she stuttered in pain, aware of the severe agonizing burn inside her, increasing with every breath she took. 

"Shut up, Felicity," he muttered harshly, pressing on her shoulder while removing his jacket. She raised her hand to take a hold of his suspender but cried out when he raised her to wrap her in the jacket, the movement jarring her, making noises erupt from her. 

Her eyes closed in pain and she thought, errant, of all the scars on Oliver's body. Before she could follow that line of thought, his phone rang and he picked up, listened to whatever whoever said, and cut the call. 

Pocketing his phone, he stood up, with her in his arms, and cried loudly at the way her shoulder pressed into him, feeling herself slipping from the white agony that had become her body. 

"You are staying with me," he muttered harshly, walking somewhere really fast.

She would have smiled at his tone if she could. It was so like him to order her at a time like this. But she couldn't smile. She couldn't even breathe. 

The walls were merging together, her eyelids becoming heavy. She gripped his shirt weakly and tried to speak, coughing on air instead, the shooting pain it inspired making her feel more lethargic.

"I said stay with me!" he growled, looking down at her. "Don't close your eyes."

She closed her eyes. Defying him even with a bullet in her shoulder. He would be pissed.

She felt, half-awake, as he got into a car. She heard, as though from a distance, Digg's voice and Oliver's curt words. He was being so distant. She didn't get it. She didn't like it. Where was her concerned husband? 

She slowly gave herself over to her burn induced sleep, welcoming the painless unconsciousness that beckoned, feeling the smooth movement of the car as she stayed cradled on Oliver's lap, in his arms, holding her as still as possible. 

She gave herself over, feeling safe and cocooned, and the last thing she felt were Russian words against her skin, his lips brushing her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
> So, what did you think?
> 
> Also, if check out my other stories if you liked this. I have an Al Sah-Him collection and a Soulmate AU too. :)
> 
> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : [supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com](http://supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com/)  
> TWITTER : [@dorky06](http://twitter.com/Dorky06/)


	22. Crackling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So, this chapter is a bit early for you all, for being an absolutely wonderful bunch of cupcakes! 
> 
> Also, I haven't been able to answer your comments on the last chapter and I am so very sorry about that! I will as soon as I can! But do leave me your amazing thoughts. I always read them, even if I can't reply immediately. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this. (And it's become my mantra now, so why the hell not?) Stuff happens. 
> 
> Happy reading!!!

Felicity felt the cool numbness in her shoulder, the stiffness in her arm. It was uncomfortable, holding back pain she knew she would find behind that numbness. She inhaled, scenting the familiar woodsy smell in the cool air, implying she was in her room. Feeling the soft mattress under her back, and the emptiness beside her, she slowly opened her eyes, encountering her own reflection in the mirror overhead, in the dark room. She saw herself wearing Oliver's t-shirt, like she did at nights, a white bandage peeking out from under it over her shoulder, a sling holding her arm on her stomach. Well, that explained the stiffness. 

Laying there, she remembered with vivid clarity the party, the office, the man, the gunshot. She remembered the vivid panic she had felt the moment she realized the bullet would hit Oliver. She remembered the vivid epiphany in the split second, an admission of things she had best left unsaid, even to herself. Losing him, after all this pain and struggle and pleasure, on both their parts, was not an option anymore. Plus, the sex was too fantastic for her to let go. She wasn't a fool.

Smiling to herself, she turned her head and her eyes landed on Oliver. She started.

He was sitting on the armchair by the window, ensconced in darkness, his hands steepled together on his lap, watching her. Letting her eyes get acclimated to the dark, she saw he was still in his party wear, sans the jacket, the suspenders still in place, the white shirt now red with her blood, his tie missing, sleeves folded over his muscular forearms. But it was not the darkness or his attire which gave her pause. It was that stillness. The same stillness he had had in that office before he had killed Yulian. The stillness of muscles and bones and eyes. Just watching her. And had she not known him like she did, she would have been scared of him.

Swallowing, she blinked at him, speaking softly, her voice husky from disuse. "Why are you sitting there?"

He kept his eyes on her, a small twitch in his jaw the only indication that he had heard her.

She tried again, not understanding his mood. "Why haven't you changed? You should get out of those clothes."

The silence was becoming heavier with every unspoken word.

And for the first time, looking at him, she felt a frission of unease fear travel down her spine. Not fear of him, never of him. But him, sitting like that, mute, just watching her with that intensity, was frightening. Because she was sure the things going through his mind were not something that would bode well.

 

She tried to get up, keeping her eyes on his distant, stoic face, feeling her heart drop to her knees. This was not good.

"Oliver..."

He stood up all of a sudden and walked out of the room, without looking back at her even once. Felicity tried to ignore the way it pinched, his careless attitude, his indifference. He was pissed about stuff. She got it. He was just acting out, trying to control his emotions.

Yes.

This was what it was. He was just trying to keep himself from lashing out.

As she lay there, looking at her own reflection, alone in the vacant bed, his eyes haunted her. Those had not been the warm, bright eyes that teased her; not the hot, inflamed blue eyes that heated her blood; not even the cool, calculating eyes that made her grit her teeth. No. Those eyes had been vacant, like the bed. Still.

And that churned her stomach in a way she had not thought possible. With absolute certainty, she knew. She knew he had made up his mind about something. His stubborn mind. About something she would not be pleased with.

She lay there telling herself it would be alright, that she would change his mind, that whatever was bothering him would work out.

She lay there, waiting for him to come back to bed.

And the night passed, and he did not.

 

                                           --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Felicity stood in his study, waiting to ambush him.

That was what it had come to. She actually had to go to the length of ambushing her own husband into talking to her.

For five days, since the night of the party, Oliver had made avoiding her an art form. It was much, much worse this time, even worse than it had been at the beginning of their marriage. At least then, he had been civil. Polite.

Now, it was almost like he didn't live in the house.

He came to the bedroom when she was in her office or taking a bath, and quickly left before she could catch him. He stayed out of the house during the days and closed himself off in his office at night, never coming to the bed that seemed too big without him. He left her to the care of Raisa and Thea and an almost recovered Roy, all of who doted upon her and chided her for the bullet and praised her for her bravery and whatever. It was nice but nothing was making her feel any better.

Oh, her shoulder was healing really quickly. Her arm was out of the sling and her medication, as the doctor had told her, was almost done. It was only a twinge now.

But her heart. It sank every time she entered the empty room, every time she heard his car leave, every time she sat in the tub.

She missed him.

Even living in the same house, she missed him. How awful was that? 

At first, she had tried to gather information about what really had happened that night when they had returned. Thea had told her it had been a chaos. Roy had told her that she had been unconscious and Oliver had been cold and brutal, barking orders to everyone and everywhere till the bullet had been dug out of her shoulder and the doctor had checked up on her. Then he had taken her up to the bedroom and closed the door. No one had any idea what happened after that since they had been inside the entire time.

Raisa had helpfully added, listening in on the conversation in the kitchen, that Oliver had run off to the basement early in the morning. And that he had been sleeping in the couch in his study for all the days.

Felicity had flushed listening to that, her heart breaking at this voluntary distance he was putting in between them for some unknown reason. And then she had seen Digg, more times than she had seen her own husband, and heartbreak be damned, her anger had spiked. How dare he?

How dare he force this upon both of them, without any explanation?

And her rage, increasing with every beat of her pulse, had driven her to this ambush.

It was late at night. And she knew, from observation and silent stalking of her own husband who lived in the same house as she did, that he would be returning to this dang room and that dang couch, choosing it over his very warm bed with a very warm wife, any minute. Well, she wouldn't invite him to bed anyways now. Ass. And she was lying to herself. She had dressed herself, just in his grey t-shirt, knowing she was going to use all her powers on him. Yup. She was.

Although it had been a struggle getting to the study, unseen, just in that tee, she hoped it'd be worth it. 

She heard the door open and turned around, watching Oliver move in, his shoulders hunched, his scruff longer, like he had gone without shaving for longer than he did, his eyes closed as he shut the door, exhaling loudly. He looked tired. So very tired. And her heart went to him despite her anger. 

She saw his eyes open, like he sensed a presence, and saw him freeze upon seeing her. His body stiffened and he blinked away the surprise, adopting that blank mask she had come to despise. Her anger was back.

"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly, moving over to the desk, keeping his eyes away from her. 

Felicity grit her teeth, casually popping her hip against the desk and crossing her arms across her breasts, delighted in the way his eyes flickered to them for a moment before going out the window. 

Keeping her voice deliberately light, she said. "Oh, I just thought I'd check up on my husband, you know. Since he is going out of his way to ensure I am taken care of and he is so very busy he can't even sleep in our bed, I thought maybe I'd just see him. See how he is doing. Stuff."

Tick tock. 

His jaw clenched but he kept his eyes on the window. "I'm fine."

So that's how he was going to play this? Seriously? Well, she could stoop low too. 

But before she could open her mouth, Oliver sighed, still gazing at the window, and spoke quietly. "I've decided to let you out of the contract."

Felicity stilled, her body freezing. "Excuse me?"

Oliver closed his eyes, his hand running through his hair. "The contract. Once Ilyich is taken care of, I am releasing you from the marriage. You'll be free."

Felicity's heart thumped, unable to believe what she was hearing, staring at him wide-eyed, her brain numb. What she wouldn't have given to hear that months ago! But now? 

She stared at him, her jaw dropped, her breathing getting faster. He still looked out the window and she had had enough with his behavior. 

She slapped her hand on the desk, hard. "Look at me, you bastard!" she demanded loudly. 

His gaze swiveled to her and their eyes locked, for long silent moments. He could not be doing this, not now. 

"Why?" she asked, trying to rein in the fire that was coursing through her veins. 

He shrugged. 

He _shrugged!_

The audacity of him! 

"I deserve an answer," she muttered. He remained quiet. 

Trying to keep the hurt from her voice, she felt her mouth twist. "So you want to let me go? End this marriage? Is this because I saved you? Took a bullet for you? Isn't this a little extreme?"

He just gazed back at her, with that same blank look in his eyes, and she clenched her hands to keep from smacking him upside the head. 

"Why wait for Ilyich to be done?" she asked, taking a step back. "You want out of this marriage so badly you can't even bear to look at my face, just let it be done then."

Felicity looked at his silent face, understanding dawning upon her. He wouldn't change his mind. Not until he was forced to. And like she had forced him to tell the truth about her father, she'd have to stoop to that again. Resolved, she took a step back, watching something flare in his eyes, his hands grip the chair. 

"What was this all for, Oliver?" she asked, her voice trembling before she could stop it. "If this was what you had planned, why? Was it for your pride? To have the woman who had slighted you? Or was it for the sex?" 

His jaw clenched so tight she knew his teeth were gnashing now. And she was hitting below the belt but she was too hurt to care. "Was that it, Oliver? Lull me into sleeping with you, and once you are done, you let me go?"

She kept taking steps backwards, and she was almost at the door now, waiting for him to speak, to say something, anything. She needed to snap him out of whatever he was into. And she could not see any other way. If he was the man she had come to trust, the man she felt proud to call her husband, he would act. He would react. She didn't even want to think of what she would do if he didn't. 

She was at the door, shaking, looking at him as he stood behind the desk, watching her with something in his eyes but nothing on his lips. No defense against her false accusations. No clarifications. No explanations. 

She nodded. "Very well, then. So, now that you have fucked me once," she said, deliberately being crude, watching him flinch just a bit, "you are done with me. In that case, there is no need for you to keep me here now. Ilyich takes me or doesn't, what difference does it make?" 

She turned the knob, opening the door. "You won't have to sleep here anymore. You can sleep in the bed. I'll leave tonight."

Without another word, she walked down the hall, into the bedroom, waiting to feel him run after her, waiting to hear his voice. Waiting. For anything. 

It didn't come. 

Tears threatened her, tightening her throat, a sob choking her as she made her way upstairs and entered the bedroom, not knowing what she would do. She had threatened to leave, knowing he would stop her. But he hadn't and she felt lost. So lost.

The bedroom was still dark, only lights from outside lighting it, casting long shadows everywhere. Gloomy. Suited the mood, apparently.  

"Don't go."

Rough. Low. Beseeching.

Her heart stopped and she closed her eyes in relief, tears escaping her, joy and pain mingling inside her. 

He had come after all. He had come and it mattered.

She didn't turn around, just stood, listening to him breathe, feeling him come behind her. 

They breathed in together, slowly, silently, in sync. 

His lips came down on her shoulder, her injured shoulder, brushing it skin, going to her neck, his longer scruff making her tingle, rasping against her skin, his warm breath ghosting over her. She reined it in. They had to talk.

She turned around, facing him, and looked up into his eyes. The naked anguish she saw made her breath catch.

"You want this marriage to end," she stated, her voice wavering.

He shook his head frantically. "No. I want you safe."

"But I am safe with you," she murmured, cupping his cheek.

He leaned into it, closing his eyes. "You are not," his voice was hoarse as his eyes opened again. "You took a bullet for me, солнешко. That is not safe. One inch lower and..."

His lips pursed and a shiver wracked his body. His eyes hardened. "That is not okay, Felicity."

Felicity narrowed her eyes, her anger simmering. "So, you and everyone else taking bullets for me is fine, but I can't do the same for you?"

"Yes."

That one word tipped her over. Everything building up for the last five days exploded inside her and before she knew it, she slapped him across his cheek with her good arm, hard, her palm burning where it hit him. 

He looked at her, stunned, before his own eyes fired up and he pinned her to the wall, trapping her between his body at front and the wall at the back, growling at her. "What the fuck was that for?"

She glared back at him, hissing softly. "That was for believing for one second that this is okay, for ignoring me like a plague for five days, for telling me this marriage is over when we both know it is not, for even daring to think that I would let you die if I could do something about it. You don't have the market on heroes cornered." 

Oliver narrowed his eyes, his hands gripping her waist. "You haven't been paying attention. I'm the bad guy, sweetheart."

She smirked. "It's good that I have a thing for bad boys then."

Oliver looked down at her for long moments and Felicity gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No."

"Then stop saying stuff like that," she commanded, keeping their eyes locked. "I may have wanted that out a few months ago. I don't anymore."

She heard his breath catch and his eyes drill hers. "What are you saying?"

Sliding her hands down his arm, she put his palms over her butt, jumping on him, wrapping her legs around him and she felt him take her weight, pressing her harder into the wall. Her hands traveled over his shoulders and gripped his hair, ignoring the twinge in her healing shoulder, her hips grinding into his hardening erection. 

"I'm saying," grind, "that you need to apologize."

Oliver's eyes darkened, heating, and he buried his face in her neck, just hugging her to him. 

A smile crossed her lips and she pulled back, seeing him, his face pinched in pain. Sighing, she kissed the mole at the corner of his mouth, brushing his hair with her fingers. 

He shuddered and unzipped his pants and before she knew it, she felt his naked erection right at her core, seeking entrance which she gladly gave. 

Tight as she still was, Oliver entered her in one stroke, filling her so completely, making her feel so full, a cry escaped her lips before her head lolled back, holding onto his shoulders. She felt her muscles stretch around him, quivering, wet. She felt him inside her, so hard, so solid. She inhaled deeply, finally knowing that they would be alright.

Once inside her, he didn't move, but his body shuddered again, one of his hands on her hips holding her weight and the other on her face, pulling her head up. 

He stayed inside her, motionless, locking their eyes together, the muted light casting his face in shadows. 

"When I saw you take that bullet, when I came so close to tasting what a life without you would be like..." he said in his low voice, the voice that made her shiver. "I thought driving you away would ease it. Not seeing you would make it easier."

He growled lightly, pulling out and thrusting in, keeping a hold of her face. "It didn't, and I am so sorry for treating you like that."

Felicity's heart clenched along with her muscles. _This man!_

She shook her head, and he stilled, his face panicked, thinking it was a refusal. 

His hands tightened over her and he thrust in again. "No, no. No, Felicity," he said urgently, moving inside her. "Please don't leave me. I can't... don't... please..."

Her heart aching for him, at his genuine incoherence, feeling his panic down to her bones, she muttered softly. "Make me stay, Oliver. Convince me." 

She saw his eyes pierce her before he hiked her legs higher up, his muscular arms holding her aloft, and pushed in again. 

Felicity felt her head tilt back, her eyes closing as pleasure radiated out from where he hit her spot, again and again, fanning all over her body. She let go of his shoulders long enough to strip off her t-shirt, exposing her nude body to his heated gaze, and ripping off his shirt like the last time. Once she had his shirt off, she pressed their bare skins together, loving the feel of his chest against her nipples, loving the friction between them as Oliver moved in and out of her at a pace so unlike that last time. 

Last time, he had been very gentle compared to what he was now. This was not gentle. This was not even in the vicinity of gentle. 

This was Oliver convincing her to stay and punishing her for asking him to all in one. This was Oliver convincing her to stay and punishing her for taking the bullet. This was his own pent up need of the last few days being exerted, own pent up torment being exorcised. This was Oliver ripping her open against their bedroom wall, like he had promised so many years ago. Only pleasure. So much pleasure. 

He was breathing heavily now, close to his release, still moving in and out and in and out and pistoning his hips into hers in that rapid rhythm. She was making sounds she didn't even recognize, panting, clutching onto him as he fucked her into the wall, their breathing and rapid slapping of skin being the only sounds in the room. 

"Stay with me, Felicity," he ground out, holding her head up to keep their gazes locked, his pace impossibly picking up, her inside walls screaming for release, wrapped like vices around him. 

"Don't leave," he begged, pounding into her, his gaze focused only on her face, his hand tightening around her jaw. 

Felicity looked at him, through her lust hazed eyes, clearly seeing what she felt in her heart on his face and before she could reply, her muscles seized him and she screamed out his name, erupting in a writhing mass of pleasure, clamping around him so hard that he thrust once more and exploded inside her, stilling, locking their bodies together, hugging her to him like he wouldn't let go.    

She breathed hard, taking in noisy breaths, gulping air as she came down from her intense orgasm, better than the last one. Oliver was breathing against her chest, his face buried into it like he was buried, semi-hard, inside her.

"I'm not going anywhere, you idiot," she muttered against his head, peppering his hair with kisses. "Why do you think I did all this?"

Oliver pulled back slightly, looking up at her, his eyes so pained her throat tightened. 

"I need you, Felicity," he said softly, blinking up at her, and she was amazed to see his eyes were moist. "I _need_ you."

Felicity scratched his head slowly, brushing her nose with his, like he always did. "No more talk of making me leave, okay?"

He nodded earnestly and she smiled, relieved. Then, she grinned. "You are quite rough, Mr. Queen. I have to say I liked it."

She saw him slowly relax, muscle by muscle, his eyes searching her face for seconds, before his lips curved up in the way that she had sorely missed. Without another word, he turned them around and headed for the bed, still inside her, and her breath caught at the way the motion caused his hardening erection to move inside her, a moan leaving her mouth as the sparks of pleasure shooting over her body again. 

He lay her down on the bed, looming over her.

"Are you sore?" he asked, his voice rough. 

"No," she groaned, actually, literally feeling him expand to his full size inside her, her muscles trembling around him, acclimating to him. 

"Good," he growled, nipping her ear, being careful to keep his weight off her shoulder. "I have a lot of making up to do."

Her breath hitched and she bit her lip. "Oliver?"

His response was licking a long stripe over her neck. She bit her lip again, feeling embarrassed.

He pulled back, sensing it, pinning her with his eyes. "What?" 

She looked away at the mirror above his head, feeling suddenly shy. The image up there didn't help.

He gripped her chin and brought her eyes back to him. "What?"

"You haven't even kissed me yet," she murmured. "I mean it's been quite some time and I miss it, you know. As amazing as your erection is, and the sex is really good, I really like you lips. And you..."

His lips cut her off before she could finish her sentence. She opened her mouth to him, kissing him back with fervor, tangling their tongues together. Oh, how she'd missed his drugging kisses, the way he flicked his tongue over hers, the way he nipped at her lips, the way he explored her mouth like it was the first and the last time he would. She'd missed him. And as she kissed him back, and flexed her hips, as he started moving again, without removing his mouth from hers, she realized how vital he had become to her. Not just physically, but in every way one could fathom.

He pulled back, gazing down at her, brushing her hair away from her face, his hips moving unhurriedly, unlike the mad pace against the wall, like he had all the time in the world in this bed, his thrusts shot bouts of pleasure up her spine softly, the build up so very gradual. She did not mind. She did not mind one bit.

He looked at her, his gaze so tender, and muttered something in Russian.

Her heart stuttered, pulse pounding as she gazed back at him, hearing his soft voice. Felicity pulled his head down and kissed him again, her heart thundering.

She didn't have to know Russian to know what he had said.

His eyes had said it all.

His eyes had been saying it for longer than she could remember.

And she kissed him because though she had not been ready to hear it, he had never really stopped saying it. 

With blinding clarity, she knew. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
> So, what did you think?
> 
> Also, if check out my other stories if you liked this. I have an Al Sah-Him collection and a Soulmate AU too. :)
> 
> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : [supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com](http://supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com/)  
> TWITTER : [@dorky06](http://twitter.com/Dorky06/)


	23. Some Say The World Will End In Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> Another chapter. Smut warning. And writing this one made my heart pound. STUFF HAPPENS. Yes, in caps. The next chapter will be a roller-coaster too. 
> 
> Do drop me your thoughts! I love to hear from you! :)
> 
> Happy reading!!!

Her husband was a sexter. She should have known. 

Just this morning, Felicity had woken up due to a sensation she had never before felt in her sleep. And once she had woken up, she had realized why that was. She had never had someone eat her out to wakefulness, that too with such skill. Whatever experience she had garnered with sex, she had garnered over the past two weeks of her life, with a very, very eager Oliver. Once they had moved past the entire Yulian fiasco, which had been a week ago, and her almost healed wound, and Oliver had finally allowed himself to let go with her, since she was not sore anymore (well, not much anyway but she didn't tell him that) and very eager too, she had come to realize that the extent of sexual pleasure her body was capable of feeling was way beyond what she had imagined. Her husband had a very enthusiastic appetite when it came to her, and she had never felt more wanted and more wanton than she did with him.

In the past week, she had realized Oliver's libido was a beast she had unleashed. He literally could never wait to get his hands and mouth on her, and most of the times, he enjoyed giving her pleasure. She had lost the count of the number of orgasms she had had courtesy of him, standing, sitting, lying down and what not. She had explored his body too, with slightly tentative hands at first, and then with a surety that came from the knowledge that this man was as much hers as she was his. Every tendon, every scar, every vein- she had mapped with her fingers and mouth and tongue, learning him like he learned her, scratching and kissing and marking him just like he nipped and bit and marked her in every spot he could, only for his eyes. He had let her do that too, every time, letting her explore till he could not not move. Then, he _moved._ Their sex life was something she had not thought sex lives could be like.

And in the last seven days, she had come to understand things about him she had not before. Things like how he would always ensure she was ready and wet enough to receive him, no matter how out of control he seemed. Things like how he would always (mostly) ensure that she came at least once before he did. Things like how he always put her pleasure first, without being obvious about it, despite her efforts to do the same to him. Once, when he had been about to go down on her, she had asked him why he never sat back and relaxed and took his pleasure, which she was actually very eager to give.

He had looked at her, with that almost smile of his, and his intense blue eyes riveted on her. "Your pleasure is my pleasure, солнешко."

And she had been stunned speechless. Yeah, he did that a lot too.

He liked reminding her that her body was made for more than one orgasm. And he liked demonstrating it, every chance he got.

And she noticed things. Like how, when she had decided to keep her eyes on him when she came a few nights ago, how he had looked. She had seen that slightly winded, slightly amazed expression on his face. And that expression stayed every time she came. She had also noticed, now that her own trust issues with him had been put to rest, that he had his own, and those ran so much more deeper than she could have fathomed. 

Oh, he trusted her, more than anyone else probably. But he seriously, even now, expected her to up and leave him. He seriously thought, even now, that she would decide one morning that she deserved better and she would walk away. She caught him sometimes, during the day, watching her with that far away look in his eyes. He would see her watching and blink it away, giving her that little smile he knew made her heart flutter. But he still believed she would leave him. And the raving idiot had no idea she could not leave him. He was it, for her. And it didn't hurt what a fantastic lover he was, creepy as the word sounded.

Put aside, it seemed like something he would overcome in time. But she knew him. And she knew now how corrosive this one minute belief could be to their marriage, scraping him on the inside, festering like a cancer. She would have to remove it before it spread.

But for now, she enjoyed their bodies, their sensuality, thriving on it.

There were times when Oliver would shove her against a wall and before she could even speak his name, his mouth would be on her and he would be inside her, wild, hard, thrusting. Those times she came before she could sneeze, multiple times, and it would be over in minutes. Then, there were times when Oliver would take her to bed and take the entire night driving her higher and higher, till she was a mass of writhing limbs, discovering her anew, letting her explode before he even entered her. He would then take his sweet time, like he had an abundance of it, making love to her, oh so tenderly her heart would be bursting.

But one thing, that remained the same, and which was actually her favorite part and the hottest thing that made her melt too, was the way he watched her. Fast or slow, it didn't matter, but every time he entered her, she would find his eyes on her, watching her with that expression on his face, his eyes equally heated and tender. With every thrust, his gaze would be riveted on hers, locking their eyes together, their breathing getting heavier but their eyes never straying. And despite having her naked body pressed to him, the fact that his eyes always came back to her eyes, and not stayed long on the body he worshiped every day and night, made her realize how pure his want was- for her. Their hard fucking or soft lovemaking was only a culmination of a desire that stemmed from a place deep inside him, for her. Her body, while important, was only secondary. And the idiot still thought she would leave. _Seriously?_

And he liked to cuddle. After sex. He would press their bodies together every time, with a kiss behind her ear, at this one spot that made her gooey. If she faced him, he would stroke her spine. If she faced away, he would spoon. But they always cuddled. And Felicity had never felt more wanted in her life than she did in those moments as they drifted to sleep.

But despite their very healthy sex lives, she had never woken up to find his face buried between her thighs. And she sure as hell had not minded it. Not one bit. 

Her eyes had looked up at the mirror, to find his t-shirt that had become hers bunched to just under her breasts and his head moving at the apex of her legs, her feet digging into his back, her own eyes hazed between sleep and lust. Oh, that mirror.  

Over the last seven days, Oliver had also realized, to his great amusement, the brilliant jackpot he had hit when he had had the mirror installed. She swore more than half her orgasms on the bed, while under him or on top or sideways or anyways, were sped up by that mirror reflecting the wicked things they did to each other. It was the hottest thing watching them together, doing something so primitive. Well, hottest next to his eyes watching her. That one would always top the list.

But thankfully, Oliver had realized her thing for mirrors and them. So he had also made love to her in the bathroom, taking her from behind as she gripped the marble sink, panting, their eyes locked on the huge ornate mirror before them. That one still made her fan herself.

Anyways, she had woken up to the best wake up call ever and then they had gone on with their day. Which had been like the last few, with her working on the information she had taken in the thumb drive in Yulian's office and him handling other Bratva business, in their respective offices. He sometimes stole in for a little (not so little) kiss, as did she. Then, they would get back to work with the promise of later. 

Today, she had finally decrypted the information and gotten a possible list of places where Ilyich could have his setup and was holing out. So, she had given the list to Oliver and seen him deal with it with that deadly look in his eyes. With a firm kiss on his lips that made Digg smirk (and his men were used to that now, so she didn't care) she had let him be and gone to help Thea handle some club stuff she had asked help for. 

Now that Roy had been completely healed, (and so had she) and able to walk about again, he was back on duty as her bodyguard and she was happy. She had missed him too much. And Thea and she had spent the hours mulling over the club's accounts, with Roy sitting on a chair in the room and making Roy-ish comments and snorts and eye rolls and bantering. It was good. 

Now, around 6, sipping iced tea while talking to Thea, her phone buzzed with a text and she picked it up, looking at the display. Oliver. An involuntarily smile grazed her face, and like the sap she was, she opened it. 

 

**Oliver : _Would you like to go out for dinner?_**

 

She bit her lip, her heart fluttering and tummy a riot and typed quickly. 

 

**Felicity : _Would there be a drive after?_**

 

She waited for his reply and it came in seconds. 

 

**Oliver : _It's a package deal._**

 

She grinned, feeling flirtatious, something she had never felt before. And they were married. 

 

**Felicity : _Hmm. I could be convinced._**

 

Covertly, she peeked a look at Thea, to see him busy talking to Roy and looked down at the next message.

 

**Oliver : _I could come and convince you thoroughly but I think my sister would be scandalized._**

 

Her breath hitched at the veiled implication but feeling dangerous, she prodded him. 

 

**Felicity : _You need to be physically present to convince me? You must be losing your touch._**

 

She didn't know what he would write then, but she had not expected what he did write. 

 

**Oliver : _Think of my touch then. On your mouth. My thumb touching your lips, brushing them open. Have they parted yet?_**

 

They had. How did he know? Before she could reply, he was typing again. 

 

**Oliver : _I know they have. They feel heavy, don't they? And your breasts? How heavy do they feel?_**

 

Very heavy. 

 

**Oliver : _Think of my touch. The way it feels when my hands are on your breasts. Pulling you nipples. Rolling them. Are you squirming in the chair yet?_**

 

She stilled her squirming and stole a glance at Thea and Roy. It was getting hot. She needed to get out of the room.

 

**Oliver : _Don't leave the room. I'm just getting started._**

 

She closed her eyes on a heavy sigh.

 

**Felicity : _You need to cool your horses, mister. Your sister is right in front of me. So is Roy._**

 

**Oliver : _Are they now? Then you'll have to be very discreet in your reactions, baby._**

 

Oliver Queen just called her 'baby' on text. And he was entering the world of raunchy, dirty texts, no hold barred. What parallel universe was this?

 

 **Oliver :** _**How wet are you?** _

 

Holy fuck. Was this man trying to kill her?

 

**Felicity : _I'm coming._**

 

**Oliver : _So soon?_**

 

A giggle left her before she could stop herself. Thea looked at her, puzzled, before she saw the phone and shook her head, turning to Roy. Felicity typed. 

 

**Felicity : _To dinner, McSmutty. Now, go away before I traumatize your sister and mortify myself._**

 

**Oliver : _;)  
_**

 

Kill her. He had sent her a smiley. A winky smiley. She hadn't even thought he knew how to use them.  

And then she had felt eyes on her and realized she had, after all, not been discreet in her reactions after all. Not if her heated cheeks were anything to go by. 

She cleared her throat and got back to work, her tummy a gooey bundle of nerves in excitement.

And the fact that her husband was a sexter. 

Their sex lives just got a whole lot more interesting.

 

                                                     ------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

His scruff never ceased to surprise her.

He rasped it against her neck as he bit on her lobe, making sensations flood her body.

They had just returned back from their drive, just after midnight, and the house was dark and silent, with everyone sleeping, and they were making out like randy bunnies in the hallway, with him pressing her into the wall. Like mirrors, walls were their thing too.  

Earlier in the evening, Felicity had dressed herself in a simple yellow dress, and Oliver had been in his casual jeans and dark button up that made her hands itch. One thing she had realized about her husband was that he could be wearing anything- from a t-shirt to shirt to suspenders to nothing at all to a sack and still look hot. They had gone out to a casual Italian place and had a good time, obviously. And this had been the first thing close to a date she had ever had with him. After paying the bill, they had gotten in his Porsche and Oliver had driven them to the beach, the same beach where she had first let him in, kissed him in the rain. 

Tonight it had been dry and secluded and they had walked along the shore, barefoot, holding hands, till they reached a private spot, hidden by the rocks, only the sea-facing side open. Oliver had sat down and pulled her between his legs, her back resting against his chest, their hands linked on her stomach, peppering small kisses on the nape of her neck while she talked about everything and nothing. He had listened, spoken in between the kisses, then listened some more and she had sighed in contentment. That, right there, had made her feel whole. 

That beach had become their own little bubble. Like their bed. Where they just were, with no outside world.

Then, Oliver had bitten her earlobe and the contentment had transformed to something hotter, making her turn her face and seek his mouth, exchanging long, dirty kisses with him. Things had started escalating and Oliver had pulled back, muttering a curse. "Not here."

Obviously. Just because she felt the outside world did not exist didn't mean it did not. And that time had not been the right time for beach sex. They would get to it. Eventually.

So, they had driven back home. And here they were. Randy bunnies. Continuing what they had started on the beach. With vigor.  

"Good lord, someone _please_ poke my eyes out!"

Thea's loud screech made Oliver freeze, his hand under her dress, very close to the lining of her panties. 

Felicity's cheeks flamed as she buried her face in his chest, hiding from Thea's line of vision. She did not know how she would face her sister-in-law in the morning if she saw her with messed up hair and smudged lipstick. Half of which was on Oliver's mouth now. Frack. 

"What are you doing here, Speedy?" Oliver asked in a rough voice, not moving because his very evident erection was still pressed into her. 

"I came back from the club, Ollie," Thea said, and Felicity could only hear the exasperation in her voice since her face was still in his chest.

Oliver sighed, his hand tightening on Felicity's waist. "Go to your room, Speedy."

"Jeez, you should go to yours."

Oliver sighed again. Thea chuckled then Felicity heard her retreating footsteps.  

She banged her head against his chest, flushing. "She just saw us having foreplay, Oliver. I can't believe Thea saw that. Oh boy."

Oliver's chest rumbled and suddenly the world turned upside down as he picked her up over his shoulder with his hand on her butt, a loud shriek escaping her, and started walking to their room.

"Oliver! Put me down!" she whisper-yelled at him, feeling the blood rushing to her face as she squirmed to get down. His grip was unflinching on her ass, which he slapped once, and then she realized they were in the bedroom. 

Oliver dropped her on the bed, and she bounced on the mattress before his body straddled her thighs, pinning them and one of his hands took a hold of both her wrists above her head, giving her not an inch to move.

She blinked up at him in surprise, seeing the slight playfulness in his eyes she had rarely seen before, and before she could speak, his free hand tickled her ribs once.

She jerked up, trying to get away, but couldn't, at all. Her wrists were manacled and she was pinned for good.

She glared at him, watching the playful smile on his lips.

"Don't you dare," she warned but he obviously gave it no heed, bringing his hand down over her ribs, tickling her without stop.

Felicity screamed his name, laughing uncontrollably, giggles erupting her, even as she tried to get away.

"Oliver! Stop! Please! Oh, god! Stop it! I swear I'll kill you if you... ah, Oliver!"

He paid her screams and pleads no heed at all, continuing his assault on her funny spots, a shit-eating grin on his face.  

Her body was beyond warm, her face beyond red, and tears streaming down now as he still tickled her. 

"Oliver! Please! It's too much! Stop!"

He stopped slowly, grinning down at her, as she panted heavily, glaring up at him. But his face was so earnest, so carefree that her scowl did not hold and she smiled back at him. He looked so young. She imagined had he had a privileged life and been some spoiled son of some wealthy couple, this was what he would be like. Breaking hearts with his boyish smile. And though it was amazing to see him like this, it was only amazing because he was who he was. Broody. Intense. And seeing him so relaxed was a reprieve. Seeing his full fledged grin when his little smiles were so far and few in between made her tummy flutter and her heart stutter. And she was waxing poetry in her own head. 

She mock-scowled at him, looking sternly. "What was that for?"

She saw his playfulness mute as something soft replaced it, and he looked down at her with that look. That look that made her stomach feel vertigo. The best kind. 

He shrugged slightly, letting go of her wrists, his hand brushing her cheek like savoring the feel of her skin. "You make me happy, солнешко."

Felicity's heart stopped for a second as she comprehended the extent of what he was telling her. She raked her fingers through his hair, smiling up at him. 

"You make me happy too."

Oliver's entire face softened and they looked at each other for long moments, saying nothing. Not needing to. 

Felicity dragged her hands over his neck to his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, one button by the other, keeping her eyes on his. Once done, she touched his mottled skin, the marks of his forged strength, and then raised her torso slightly, unzipping her dress and removing it, throwing it to the side, along with her bra. She sank back on the bed, biting her lip, still watching him watch her, and put her hands on his belt, unbuckling it slowly and throwing it over too. Then she unsnapped his jeans, and put her hand over him, feeling him harden and grow even bigger in her palm, which was too small for him. 

Her blood heated at the thought of having him again, and despite of so many times she already had, his size still made her breath catch when he entered her. 

She slowly brought her hands back on his chest and pushed, flipping him on his back, removing her panties, and straddling him, pushing apart the edges of his shirt to see him, while he still silently watched her. 

Leaning over, she kissed his neck, feeling his stubble rasp against her skin, her nipples brushing his chest as her hips flexed on his. 

"Watch the mirror, baby," she whispered in his ear, kissing her way down his chest. Licking the Bratva tattoo on his pecs, she glanced up to see his still watching her. She looked at him puzzled and his lips twitched. 

"Why aren't you seeing the mirror?" she asked softly. 

He didn't say anything, just kept his eyes on her and smiled softly. And it hit her. He was watching her. _Her._  

Overwhelmed, she leaned over and paused right over his mouth, whispering. "You are crazy, you know that, right?"

His answer was another smile as he gripped the back of her head and pulled her to him, locking their lips together. Kissing him was an art form. Kissing him was an addiction. She was mastering both. She could kiss him for the rest of her life and not want for anything.

Getting rid of his clothes, enough to free him, she put his hand on her hips, to guide her, hold her, and felt him at her entrance. Slowly, she descended, taking him in, inch by inch, her mouth gasping over his. 

"Oliver," she whispered, her head lolling back as the full feeling took her over. This was a better heaven. So much better. 

"Oliver..." she breathed out again, her walls clamping on him. 

He didn't say anything, but he just watched her with that expression, that look in his eyes, that made her want to hold him tight and never let him go. That look was ripe with things unsaid. Things that had come to the tip of her tongue but not ready to get out. So, she let her tongue dance with his, reveling in this, flexing her hips, both by instinct and by his guidance, feeling the throbbing inside her coil tighter and tighter as she moved, as his hips instinctively thrust up at her, as their bodies pressed completely into each other.

She pulled back and locked their eyes on each other, seeing his blown pupils and the heat and so many more things in his gaze, slowly moving over him, feeling him twitch inside her, her body recognizing him, welcoming him with each thrust, clenching in that welcome.

She moved tonight, and he let her, and his gaze turned her on more than his body tight against her, into her. She moved and seconds or minutes or hours later, she came, his name a wisp on her lips, pulling his face into her chest, holding onto him. But she kept riding him, flexing her hips and by the time her second orgasm, which was almost a ritual now, hit, he came too, spilling into her, with a loud exhale, kissing her pulse point over and over again, hugging her to his body.

After long minutes, she pulled away with a kiss on his head and they cleaned up, removing the leftover clothes and getting back in bed, turning the light off.  

She lay on her side with him at her back, completely wrapped around her, his arm heavy and warm over her middle and their legs tangled, heads almost on the same pillow. He kissed her on the spot behind her ear and for the first time in a week, he whispered the Russian words right into her skin. 

Oliver Queen had redefined intimacy for her. 

 

                                                        -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

For the first time in her marriage, since they had started sharing the bed (apart from the post-Yulian days that she refused to include because Oliver had been an idiot) , she did not wake up with Oliver wrapped around her. Instead, his side of the bed was empty and she frowned, pulling the sheet up her body and looking around. Her eyes fell on the clock at the table. 7 AM. Her glasses were beside the clock and she picked them up, just then seeing the note tucked there.

She picked it up, opening it with a yawn, and saw Oliver's masculine handwriting.

 

_**Something urgent came up. Had to leave. Will be back in a few hours.** _

_**P.S. You look beautiful sleeping.** _

 

Warm fuzzy feeling bubbled in her tummy. Shaking her head, knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep without him now, she got up and went to freshen up and get ready for the day. She had a program to finish up today for the security systems in the house. The same that Thea would install in her club.  

She took a long bath and got ready in shorts and t-shirt, going down for breakfast.

Raisa smiled at her and Felicity greeted her back, pouring herself some juice.

"Morning, Raisa! Can I have some bagels?"

Raisa nodded and Felicity sat down, sipping. "Do you know what time Oliver left this morning?"

Raisa made the dough, speaking in her accent. "Yes. It was barely even dawn. Mr. Diggle called him down for some business."

Felicity nodded, and ate her bagel, going about her day. She went to her office an finished the program by lunch, mailed it to Thea, then worked on the other security issues by evening. By the time it was 5, she was cracking her neck and stretching her muscles and finally heading to Oliver's study, wanting to see him.

She nodded to Roy on the way while he munched on some peanuts, and opened the door to the study. It was empty. Frowning, she turned back and sought out Raisa.

She found her in the laundry room, folding clothes.

"Hey, Raisa," Felicity started, her brow furrowed. "Isn't Oliver back yet?"

"No, Mrs. Felicity," Raisa said, folding the clothes in her hand. "Mr. Diggle phoned. Said they would be late."

Felicity nodded, leaving the room, but something felt wrong. She tried to tell herself it was nothing and then she remembered what Oliver had made her promise weeks ago after saving her from Palmer.

 

 _"Always trust your instincts."_  

 

Her instincts were making her stomach sink with a sudden weight she did not understand. Something was off and she had no idea what it was. Inhaling deeply, she got her phone out and quickly typed a text. 

 

**Felicity : _Hey! Busy?_ **

 

She kept glancing at her phone and got no reply. Snatching a sandwich, her eyes glued to the screen, she tried to reason with herself. 

It was some urgent Bratva business. He was busy. That was all. But her instinct wouldn't rest.

"Oh, screw it!"

Muttering to herself, she picked up the phone and dialed Digg, just in case Oliver was busy.  

The phone rang and rang and rang but wasn't answered. Maybe they were both busy. 

But something was wrong. 

Biting her lips, her heart starting to race, she headed to her office again just as her phone buzzed with a text. Quickly pulling it out, she saw the name and sighed with relief, her whole body relaxing. Oliver. 

Sighing again, she frowned when she saw it was an image he had sent and she opened it, letting it load. 

She froze, every muscle in her body stilling. And then her phone clattered to the floor. 

The motion jerked her into action, a hand covering her mouth, she bent down and picked it up again, with a hand that was shaking badly, her heart hammering in fear. 

There, in the picture, she saw Oliver, strung up by chains on his hands, wrapped around his wrists which were bleeding, making him hang from the ceiling, his toes barely touching the ground, his face bruised and bleeding, his head lolling forward. He was unconscious, in some warehouse with almost no light.

And the grainy picture made her heart bleed as she stood motionless, blinking back tears as she saw him.

Oliver. Bleeding. Bruised. Tortured. Unconscious.

No. No. Her mind refused to accept any other reason for his unconsciousness. Her mind could not handle that. 

She breathed in through her mouth, loudly, and tried to calm down. Oliver did not need her panicking or falling to pieces right now. But her gut wouldn't stop churning and her hand wouldn't stop shaking.

Oliver was captive. And whoever had him had his phone.

She stared at the screen, her heart stopping as she watched the 'typing' sign come up. 

And then the message came. And her blood froze. 

 

**Oliver : _Come to me, alone, if you wish to save him. You have three hours._ **

**Oliver : _I believe you have heard of me._ **

**Oliver :** _**I am Ilyich.**   _  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
> So what did you think?
> 
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	24. Three. Two. One. Burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> The cliffys just gets me such impassioned responses! I'm so glad! Thank you so much!
> 
> Oh, and I finished my first fanfic ever- Free Fall. Isn't that great? I'm so happy!
> 
> Anyhow, here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Do drop me a line with your thoughts. I love to hear from you. 
> 
> Happy reading!!!

**Roughly Three Hours Before The Deadline**

 

Felicity stood dazed, shaking, gulping, staring at the screen.

Ilyich. Ilyich had Oliver.

She didn't know how and it didn't matter.

Ilyich had Oliver. And he wanted her.

She blinked and took a deep breath, shaking the haze from her mind and locking her phone, putting it in the pocket of her shorts. She had to act. She had to get Oliver out. Nothing else mattered. And if she was going to deal with ilyich, and get Oliver out safely, she had to be smarter than him about it. Till now, this had been a game of cat and mouse and Ilyich had been one step ahead the entire time. She couldn't afford to give him that space anymore. Oliver was all that mattered. 

Felicity stood, thinking, and letting her brain do what it did best. Find solutions to complex problems. 

Ilyich had his phone!

She quickly got her phone and checked the tracker on his. Maybe it was still there. It wasn't. Ilyich had taken it out. Damn it!

Swallowing her frustration, she looked around the room where she was standing and her eyes fell on the spot where Oliver's safe was hidden. The one only she knew about apart from him. The one he had told her about in case of emergencies.

She made her way to the hidden safe, opening it and dialing the combination. She ruffled through the wads of cash and passports to the back, her hand finding what she was looking for, and she took out the object from the inside, shoving it in her bag, locking the safe behind her. 

Nodding to herself, she made her way to the kitchen, pondering upon the facts she knew. She knew Digg was injured or worse because he was not picking up his phone and Oliver was in Ilyich's captivity. Digg would not have let that happen unless he had been taken out himself. She knew Oliver had suspected someone in this house of being a mole and didn't trust anyone and if Oliver had reason for suspicion, she sure as hell was not trusting anyone. She also knew that Ilyich was holed up somewhere close to her home and she had triangulated the list of locations only yesterday for Oliver.

Realization dawned upon her. The _idiot!_ That's what he must have gone to check out without back-up. And Yulian being dead must have alerted Ilyich somehow. Frack!

Okay. So Oliver had walked into a trap. She had to get him out and to do that she had to not freak out. 

Calling on her composure, she rounded the corner swiftly towards where she had seen Roy eat the peanuts, knowing he was the only person in the house she could remotely trust right now. And as she walked, a plan was slowly forming in her head. She knew exactly where she was going to go.

"Roy," she walked into the kitchen, seeing him still munching on peanuts, calling his name with as much cool as she could.

He turned to her, relaxed, and she saw him freeze as he looked at her face, searching it, instinctively understanding that something was very, very wrong. He started to open his mouth to speak but she shook her head, putting a finger to her lips, quietening him. He stilled and got up from the stool, his body ready to move, his jaw hard. Now that she was letting her brain work, she was not going to risk any chances of rescuing Oliver. They might have been bugged for all she knew.

She tilted her head to the door on the right, the one that led straight to the garage, and he nodded, his eyes somber and followed her, alert, on guard. 

She stopped at the door for a second, considering. If there was some mole in the house, it was best that she and Thea not be there in Oliver's absence. And Thea was at the club. Thankfully.

Nodding to herself, she pulled Roy down the door, going to the garage and walked quickly, hastily, without speaking. He followed her lead, quietly, knowing something was very off.

Eyeing the Porsche SUV, she asked Roy silently to get in the passenger's side and got in the behind the wheel, buckling herself in. She started the vehicle and pulled out, hitting the accelerator and they left the premises within seconds, racing down the open road in the darkening sky.

"What's happened?" 

Roy's quiet voice placated her, and she took strength from it, looking straight ahead.

"Ilyich has Oliver."

She heard Roy draw in a quick breath before he asked, his voice hard. "And?"

Felicity's grip tightened on the wheel, her knuckles whitening. "And I have three hours roughly to go to him. Or Oliver will die."

Roy stayed silent and Felicity spoke. "Ilyich is going to kill Oliver either way. But the perverse bastard that he is, he will want to rub it in Oliver's face that he has me. So Oliver has some time for now."

She saw Roy nod in her periphery. "And Oliver is strong. Where's Digg?"

"Unreachable," she said softly, feeling her heart clenching in fear but keeping it at bay. She needed a clear head for now. Oliver, and possibly Digg, needed that from her.

"And what are you going to do?"  

Felicity lips pursed as she grit her teeth. "I am going to make Ilyich regret ever laying his eyes on me and his filthy hands on my husband."

"Good," Roy replied firmly. "I thought you were going to give yourself over."

"I am," Felicity said, her mind whirring and she felt Roy look at her in surprise. So, she elaborated. "But I have a plan. And you are the only person I can trust."

"Anything."

"Call Thea and tell her to not leave the club at any cost and stay safe," she ordered, keeping her eyes on the road. 

Roy nodded and quickly made the call, avoiding any questions and fielding them by telling her it was an emergency. Thea, having the good head on her shoulders and the sense that came from being Oliver's sister who had lived with him enough to know about this world, had agreed to stay safe and told Roy she was armed. That relieved Felicity greatly. 

Once done, they stayed silent for the rest of the ride, and she knew, Roy being Roy, that he knew exactly where she was going. She was going to where it had all started. She was going to her old house. It was time the people who had made the mistakes paid for them on their own.

 

**Roughly Two Hours Before The Deadline**

 

She parked the car hastily in front of the doorway and got out, the slam of the door on her side loud in the silent night, followed by the slam on Roy's side. She didn't wait for him, knowing she wouldn't have to, and marched in the house with hurried, angry footsteps. Now that she had had time in the car to contemplate, to think, the shock had worn off and it had been replaced by a kind of burn she had never experienced before. It transcended hatred. It even transcended rage. This burn was destruction in its rawest form. And she knew that she was going to destroy tonight. Like she never had before. Without remorse.

She walked in, ignoring the surprised face of her mother, and the hurried shout of Anatoly. As much as she loved Anatoly, she did not trust him either, not tonight. When her own father had betrayed her, what was to say Anatoly hadn't? She couldn't afford to trust him tonight. Not when Oliver's, and maybe Digg's, life was on the line.

Viktor Orlov was in the study, as he always was and he looked up from his seat as Felicity slammed the door open and entered, going straight to his desk, slapping her palm on the wood. Hard.

"My husband is paying for your mistake," she ground out, staring deep into the eyes of the man she once called her her father, aware of her mom and Anatoly who had followed her into the room, along with Roy. She didn't care.

She saw Viktor's face register his surprise and he opened his mouth but she slammed her palm again on the wood, cutting him off. "Don't open your mouth. I did not like it the last ten times you did, and I sure as hell won't tolerate it now."

She heard her mom's reprimanding, "Felicity!" but she didn't move her eyes from the man in front of her.

"I am done being the little pawn in your game with that bastard. And I am not going to let the one man who sacrificed everything to keep me safe be a pawn either," she leaned in close, meaning every word she said, her voice low. "So, you are going to work with me or God help me, I will destroy this precious world of yours, bit by bit, and I will do it without blinking."

She saw her father swallow as he stood up. "Felicity, this is Ilyich. I can't..."

She didn't have time for this. Oliver didn't have time for this.

With a sneer so unlike her, she spoke, making good on her threat effectively. "Mom, do you know what a bastard you are married to?"

Viktor Orlov's eyes narrowed at Felicity and she narrowed hers right back. Destroying his world bit by bit. He stayed quiet, not agreeing to help her. She continued without blinking.

"You are married to the man who sold his own daughter to the filthiest butcher he could find to save his own neck and then married her off to a man he did not know because he was blackmailed and he had to save his own neck again," she finished, hearing her mother's loud gasp from behind her and Roy's deep breath as he heard it for the first time. She continued. "It was my luck that Oliver is a good man. But either way, it did not matter to him in the slightest." 

"Felicity, you must be mistaken," he mother's trembling voice came to her and she scoffed.

"I have been paying for this man's greed and egotism for months. I won't let Oliver pay for it."

Felicity felt her mother step forward and walk around the desk, shaking, facing Viktor.

"Is this true?" she asked, her voice trembling and Felicity felt a twinge of remorse for her. But she shut it away.

Her father kept quiet, his eyes on Felicity and she saw her mother's hand flash out and slap him hard across his face, the sound ringing in the room.

"You asshole!" she cried out, the hatred in her voice so strong it soothed something deep inside Felicity. Her mother stood right beside her, like she had always promised. Felicity closed her eyes on the wave of emotion and got back on track. Now was not the time.

"This is just one demonstration," she said coldly, eyeing the man. "Your marriage is down the drain. Now, if you don't stop being the coward you are, I am going to expose you to the many enemies you have, and I will destroy your precious Bratva world and your reputation. I will shove you six feet under and you know I will."

Her mother looked at her before turning back to her husband, disgust in her voice. "And I will help her."

Felicity flashed a quick smile to her mother before coolly appraising the man. "Take this as your chance to prove you still have some remorse if you have any scrupules left. Or take this as your final warning. But you are helping me either way."

Viktor Orlov considered her frosty glance for long moments before he nodded and she breathed in. 

"What do you need?"

Felicity inhaled. "I need you to call upon as many men you have, loyal men, who you are absolutely sure about and I need them to raid a warehouse."

"I don't have so many men," he said quietly and she raised her eyebrows. 

"Are you seriously spewing that shit out?" she asked angrily, crossing her arms. "You are one of the most powerful men in the Bratva and I have seen you work since I was in diapers. So don't give me that. I need all your men. _All. Of. Them._ "

Viktor nodded again and tilted his head at Anatoly, who left the room to gather the men. 

"What do you want to do?" he asked and she pulled her phone out, getting the list out. 

"You know Ilyich. You were his important man. So tell me, which is the most likely place that he would be holed up at?"

She saw her father peruse the list closely, watching for reaction.

Then he spoke. "He would either stay at the warehouse on Lexington or the one on Maverick's Point. But I think it's Lexington."

Felicity nodded and pocketed her phone again. Lexington was five minutes from her house. "Alright. I need you to take your men to the warehouse on Lexington and wait outside till I give you the go ahead."

Viktor hesitated. Felicity leaned close. "Don't try anything smart." 

"I am your father," he said in a hard voice. 

"Not anymore," she spoke equally hard. "Now leave. We don't have time."

"But..."

And she was out of patience. Her mouth curled in another sneer and she felt the burn consume her. "Anything happens to my husband, _father,"_ she sneered the word, "I will personally hunt you down and I will make you wish you were dead. Keep that in mind."

He breathed in harshly, a regretful smile on his lips. "You have more Bratva in your blood than you realize."

Good. She needed that tonight. He left without another word, leaving Felicity with her mother. She came forward and enveloped her in her arms, just like she always did when Felicity had been hurt and she needed a hug. 

"I'm so sorry, honey," she breathed, her body shaking. 

Felicity nodded, wrapping her tight. "I know, mom. I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Felicity inhaled deeply, shaking her head. "Later, mom. I need to go right now."

Donna Smoak brushed Felicity's hair away from her face and wiped her eyes. "What do you need me to do?"

Felicity smiled gratefully. "Just make sure nothing other than what I said happens here. If it does, call me."

Her mother nodded, looking at Felicity deeply. "I know it is an odd time to say this, but I am happy that you found Oliver. And I know you are strong enough to find him again." 

Felicity swallowed past the lump in her throat and squeezed her mother's arms once, grateful, and left, Roy following her with quick steps. 

She pulled out of the driveway, Roy beside her, and drove for about five minutes, before pulling over at the side of a lone road, getting the phone out.

The night had completely descended, moonless, black, and there was nobody to be seen for miles. She took a deep breath, glancing at Roy, who looked at her with support,  and dialed Oliver's number.

It rang. Once. Twice. She was aware of Roy's gaze on her but she ignored it, focusing on keeping her voice calm and keeping the burn at bay. 

The call was picked up on the third ring, and her heart thundered, listening to the silence on the other end, knowing it was Ilyich's breaths she was hearing, slow and measured. 

She swallowed and opened her mouth, her voice unwavering. "I want to speak to Oliver."

No response. Alright then. This had to go the hard way. 

"Listen to me carefully, you moron," she spoke, her voice hard, gritty, "if you don't let me speak to my husband, that means he is dead. And if he is dead, you will never have me. I will run away and disappear while I slowly dismantle your organization and burn it to ashes and rubble. If you have done your research on me, you know I am more than capable of doing it. So, pray. Pray that does not happen. And make me speak to him. I want proof."

There was a heavy shuffling sound and then a grunt before a lot of heavy breathing.

"Oliver?" Felicity called softly.

"Felicity?" he said in a low voice.

"Oliver..."

"Don't come, Felicity," he said firmly, not at all sounding like he was strung up and bleeding. "You are not coming."

Felicity stayed silent, trying to understand.

"Trust me."

And the phone was taken away, and she heard Oliver struggle.

"You have one hour," a man's hard voice, thick with Russian accent, came on. "One hour before he dies. Come alone. And do not call again."

The line cut and Felicity grit her teeth, looking down at the screen.

Oliver had asked her to trust him and not go. His captor had told her he had only one hour left.

She stared at the screen, knowing she trusted Oliver with everything but also knowing she couldn't take this chance, not with his life.

Taking a deep breath, decision made, she dialed another number, knowing the person on the other end was another light in this dark night. 

 

** Roughly One Hour Before The Deadline **

 

 

"Why are we here?" 

Felicity looked beside her at Roy, who sat still, observing the scene in front of them then back where Sara sat, looking at her, waiting for a response. 

Felicity had called Sara after making the call to Oliver. It had seemed logical. Sara was a trained fighter and a good one if she had been the Chinese Triad's main operative in the city three years ago. Sara knew the ugliness that could come in this world, and for Felicity, she had not even hesitated once to dive right back in it. Felicity had just told her that she would pick her up and it was important when Sara had said a simple yes, no questions asked. 

But now, sitting in the darkened SUV with no lights, hidden in the woods, with a direct view of the warehouse at Maverick's Point, all eerie calm and quiet and not a soul in sight, Sara whispered the question. Roy had filled her in on Oliver's abduction, only telling her the bare bones of it, and nothing about her father's deal with Ilyich. Sara had listened with that awareness she had and gotten ready, cracking her neck and rotating her wrists. 

"There is a mole, maybe more than one," Felicity began, quietly, "in both my house and my father's house."

"And?" Sara prodded.

"And," Felicity began explaining, not moving her eyes from the warehouse. "I am done being an idiot. Ilyich thinks he is smart in having a mole, I used that mole right against him tonight."

At Sara's frown in the rear-view mirror, she elaborated. "I made a scene at my father's house and demanded all his men go attack Lexington since my father is certain that is where Ilyich is holed up with Oliver. The mole," Felicity said cracking her own neck, feeling the knots in her shoulders, "is going to give the information right to Ilyich. So, you know what Ilyich will do?"

"What?" Roy asked this time, and Felicity grinned slightly.

"Ilyich is going to behave like the snake that he is when he is stepped upon," she said. "He is going to make a mistake."

"And what would that be?" Roy leaned forward as did Sara.

Felicity rolled her eyes at them. "Ilyich wants me and he knows Oliver is his bargaining chip. If he doesn't have Oliver, I will go right underground and he will never find me. After that phone call, he must have destroyed the phone so that I wouldn't track them anyway, and then he would have gotten the information about the attack. So, he is going to be the coward that he is and hide. With Oliver."

Roy's eyes flashed as he caught on, remembering the conversation from the study. "He is going to get Oliver and come to the second most likely place for him to hide."

"Exactly," Felicity nodded. "Maverick's Point. He is going to show up here anytime with Oliver, with a few men at the max while the rest of his crew takes the brunt of the attack. Anatoly, if he is who he is, is going to deal with those people just fine."

Sara frowned. "But how will he know if you come?"

"He wouldn't," Felicity said. "He would be expecting me, especially after that call, to be at Lexington with the others. But we are going to catch him here. I figured I couldn't put all the fighting pressure on Roy so I called you for back-up," she told Sara.

"Good," Sara smirked. "It has been too long since I have kicked some ass."

Felicity smiled and prayed that she was right. She had thought long and hard about it, and knowing everything she did, this was the only thing that made sense. She had to catch Ilyich and put him to the ground, once and for all. She had to do this. 

And worse come worse case scenario, she would get Oliver out unharmed. He had to be safe.

Sitting there, she understood the need to protect that burned inside Oliver every time he looked at her. The same burn was coursing through her veins. They were forged from a similar fire, kindled similarly in their needs. That fire burned in her, waiting to destroy, waiting to protect. 

Tonight, she realized, sitting there, she was not the daughter who had been sold away by her father, or the woman who had been wronged on so many levels. Tonight, she was the wife whose husband had been taken from her, and for the first time, she understood the depth of the vows that had been said that day months ago in a beautiful garden, vows that she had scoffed at then, never realizing how deeply they had entrenched themselves in her. 

"Felicity," Roy's alert voice said softly and she sat up straight, peering into the night, trying to see what he saw.

Movement.

Shapes. 

Six men. 

She saw silently, her muscles freezing, as she saw Oliver, bleeding and limping lightly, his hands tied behind his back, three guns trained on his head, and a big man walking in front of them, flanked by two men, looking around, checking the area. His face was scarred, from what she could see, and he was big, like Digg big (and Digg not being with them made her worry), and she knew instinctively that this was Ilyich. The creepy bastard. 

She saw the men enter the warehouse, closing the doors shut and took a deep breath, unlocking her muscles, taking strength from knowing, seeing the proof that Oliver was fine, just a little injured. He was fine. 

Nodding to Sara and Roy, she inhaled deeply. "Bring my husband back to me."

They nodded back and slowly, they got out, with almost no sound, and Felicity took out Oliver's gun, the one she had picked up from the safe, before leaving their house, and loaded it. She had been around enough men in her life to know how to load a gun. She had been around enough to know how to fire it, even if she was a bad shot. How bad could she miss if it was pressed against flesh?

Tonight, she would kill if need be.

Tonight, she would destroy and protect.

And she realized as she made her way to the warehouse, Viktor Orlov had been right about one thing. 

She had more Bratva in her than she realized.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	25. Fire And Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> My laptop crashed yesterday mid writing which is why this update is a day late. I truly apologize if you had been waiting. Thanks a ton for your patience. 
> 
> Here is the next chapter. And yes, stuff happens. It gets a little dark in the middle so be warned.
> 
> ALSO NOTE : This story has only 2-3 more chapters to go now. Yeah, I can't believe it either. Maximum 3. I'll let you know for sure in the next update. I'm crying already.
> 
> Do drop me a line with your thoughts. I love hearing from you!
> 
> Happy reading.

Roy and Sara were already inside.

Felicity slowly made her way into the warehouse, slipping through the side where the wall had been broken ages ago, the rubble on the ground dirty and dusty, trying to be as quiet as possible. Never having been stealthy in her life before, she kept the gun aimed straight ahead, keeping her shoulders straight like she had seen the men in the house do, the gun heavy in her hands and her arms feeling the strain, her muscles not used to any of this physical application. Her thigh muscles had gotten stronger due to a lot of exercising she had been getting with Oliver lately, but not her arms so much. As she inched forward in the darkness, she vowed that exercising was not done, not by a long shot. He would be safe and out of this place tonight, no matter what.

Her ears perked up at the male voices coming from the opening at the end of the corridor, and she very quietly stepped forward, keeping to the shadows, narrowing her eyes as the inside of warehouse came into view, breathing through her nose deliberately. Her heart was hammering in her chest but she kept cool. For Oliver.

She saw three men stand guard around the doors. The duffers had not thought to man the huge inviting opening in the wall. Idiots.

Two men stood with their guns trained right at Oliver's head. And Oliver.

She saw her husband, his lip cut and cheeks bruised, sitting with his hands tied behind his back on a chair, his hard eyes seemingly neutral on the big man pacing in front of him. He seemed neutral but Felicity could see, even from the distance, the absolute hatred he had for that man. And that more than anything else told her he was Ilyich.

Ilyich , who had just been a ghost till now, in the flesh. Ilyich, who had only been a name, now had a face. A haggard, scarred face reflecting the ugliness of his soul. Ilyich who was going down tonight. 

She saw Sara move in the shadows above the men holding Oliver, keeping to the metal beams. How she had gotten up there in the first place was a mystery Felicity would leave unsolved.

And if Sara was there then Roy would be taking out the guards at the doors. Good.

"You have quite the Bratva wife," she heard Ilyich start to talk, in a gruff, heavy voice, heavy with disuse, the Russian accent barely recognizable in his tone. And the ass was talking about her. She reined in the fire, her fingers tightening on the gun.

"She commanded her men into attacking my men," Ilyich went on, walking in front of the chair, back and forth, his hands in his pockets while Oliver watched with that pseudo stoic expression on his face.

"She must be something fierce. Now this makes me even more determined to take her under me and command that fierceness." Ilyich leaned closer to Oliver, sneering. "Oh, I will have her for me. Rip her open. And I will make you watch as she screams, before cutting her off and then cutting you off. I will make you watch everything."

She saw a muscle in Oliver's jaw tic as the veins in his neck throbbed evidently. But he remained silent. Waiting out Ilyich like she had waited out Yulian in the office.

And that gave her pause.

Her Oliver would be out of that chair in a jiffy and breaking bones by now, especially after what Ilyich had just said. Her Oliver was a possessive, territorial beast he would unleash on these men for even thinking about her like that. But he was silent and waiting Ilyich out. Like she had waited Yulian out. And she had had a plan then.

She had had a _plan!_

Her eyes widened as realization dawned upon her.

_Oliver had a fucking plan!_

That was why he had asked her not to come!

She wildly glanced up at Sara and Roy, trying to warn them to hold it off, not wanting to interfere with whatever Oliver had planned more than she already had. But they were not looking at her, their gazes firmly trained on their targets. Frack.

"I'd have to call her and ask her to come now," Ilyich said, gloating. "And she would come running after I broke your leg for her to hear."

She saw the sneer curve Oliver's bloody lip, the darkness in that sneer giving her chills.

"You won't touch a hair on her head," he said in a low voice and Felicity's heart plummeted at the fierceness in his tone, making her realize how foolishly the idiot had let himself get caught and how foolishly he was ready for torture.

Anger burned in her, at him. He was supposed to tell her of his plans, not go half cocked into the den of the lion. Or snake. Whatever.

Ilyich pulled back a hand and punched him in the ribs, making him cringe and the fire, which had receded at the knowledge of Oliver's plan, blazed forth, completely untamed. _How dare he?_

How dare he lay a hand on him?

She felt the sourness in her mouth and saw as Roy and Sara nodded to each other and dropped down from the rafters. Sara landed right behind Oliver, catching the men off guard and engaging them in a fight that impressed the shit out of Felicity, her movements quick and agile and so very fast, using her short size to her advantage against her huge opponents. Roy landed in front of the man in the center, knocking him down in seconds and flipping over the wall to kick the third one while shooting at the second one, the element of surprise aiding him as well, along with those dang flips he was so proud of, his athletic body giving a gymnast a hike.

Felicity saw them fight and saw Ilyich take his own gun out, aiming it at Oliver's head as he looked back at Sara and Roy in slight surprise. Ilyich cocked the gun and fired it up in the air once before pointing it back at Oliver, making both Sara and Roy freeze in their actions. Felicity's heart dropped to her knees for long seconds before she straightened. 

"Stop or I shoot him now," Ilyich said in a cold voice and the sight of the gun on Oliver's temple, his finger on the trigger broke down the thin hold she had had on herself. Quietly, she stepped forward into the shadows, slowly inching her way to him along the wall as Sara and Roy were taken hold of by the two conscious men. Two against two. They would handle those odds easily. 

She moved low.

Ilyich kept talking. The man liked the sound of his own voice too much.

"Well, well, this is unfortunate. Now you all have to die. And I'm done with the effort. I'll find her if I have to tear the ground."

"Or maybe I'll just come to you, you moron," Felicity said coldly, the fire not tethered inside her, stepping behind Ilyich, barely reaching his shoulder but pressing the gun at the base of his spine.

She saw Oliver's jaw clench in her periphery.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he grit out in a hard voice.

"Shut the fuck up," she shot back. She'd deal with him later.

Her eyes were trained on Ilyich as she pressed the gun harder at the spot. "Drop your gun on the ground, now."

He didn't move. Nobody did. And she was so done.

She began conversationally in a frigid voice. "You know this spot on your back, you jackass? You know what happens if a bullet goes in here?"

No movement. Just breathing.

"Worst case scenario, you die while your brain spasms in agony or worst case scenario, you live in paralysis for a very painful life. Dealer's choice."

She felt the muscle in his back move and she kept her finger on the trigger, ready to shoot, snarling. "You twitch and you are dead. Drop the gun!"

After a few seconds, Ilyich dropped the gun beside Oliver's feet.

"Arms above you head," she ordered roughly. "Roy, Sara, get the guards tied up. If anyone tries anything, kill them."

Oliver remained completely quiet the entire time, glaring at her. She ignored him.

Focusing on Ilyich, she spoke. "You wanted to meet me so bad, right? I'm here. Now what?"

"Do you know what your father did, little girl?" Ilyich spoke addressing her.

She didn't answer. He continued. "He sold me little girls like yourself for over ten years. So many girls. But not one escaped. Except two. Oliver Queen's sister and his wife. He will die."

"Not before I blow your spine off."

Suddenly, the doors to the warehouse burst open and five men entered the space, armed to the teeth in guns, and the moment it took her to blink at them, Ilyich had turned around and twisted her arm behind her back, the gun clattering to the floor beside her. 

Sara and Roy started fighting them, gunshots ringing out everywhere, but could not hold up against all of them after a few minutes. She watched with her heart sinking.

She felt Ilyich's breath on her ear as he pressed himself into her hip, making her skin crawl and bile fill her mouth. 

"You think I am a fool, girl? You really thought I wouldn't have back up coming here?" Ilyich sneered and she clenched her teeth at her own foolishness. 

He pressed himself harder against her hip and she gagged, her eyes finding Oliver's who just sat there, completely still. Eerie still. Like he had in Yulian's office. Their gazes locked and she saw the coldness in his eyes, the one in complete contrast to the fire in her veins. 

"You shouldn't have come here," Ilyich whispered. "Now everyone will watch as I fuck you. He," he said pointing to Oliver, "will watch and he will beg for me to spare you." 

Disgust mingled with rage inside her, before the fire slowly ebbed. Looking at Oliver, she felt her own insides still. Ilyich wanted to rape her in front of Oliver.

The fire died as she realized how far she was willing to go. She could not make him watch. This would destroy Oliver more than all his scars combined. She remembered every moment she had spent with him in the last few months, from the way he stroked her spine in bed to the way he grinned at her, crinkling his eyes to the way he tickled her and to the way he watched her when he entered her, to the way he muttered Russian into her hair. He did not deserve this. And she would never destroy him like that. Not as long as there was a breath left in her body.

The fire inside her slowly shifted to something cold, so, so cold that it burned like ice did when held for too long. She looked at Oliver, feeling how he felt when he went still, cutting himself off from himself. That is how he did it and it helped. By each vow she had made to him, she swore she would not make him watch. She would not let Ilyich touch her. No matter what she had to do.

She decided this in seconds.

She felt the change inside her in seconds.

And she saw him see it in those seconds, his own eyes recognizing her so much better than she did.

 

She saw the panic in his eyes as he read hers and she closed hers, shutting him out. She would not make him suffer. Not anymore. A tremble came to her jaw but she held it back. Stillness was her ally now. 

Ilyich turned them around and she closed her eyes, opening them and looking at the gun on the ground mere inches from her feet. She just had to get to it. To the gun. It was already loaded. She needed the gun and had to get it. Somehow.

 

"Felicity," she heard Oliver speak, a slight shake in his voice only she could detect. He knew. He had seen that cold enter her veins.

She ignored him. She was doing this to keep him safe. To protect. He would not suffer anymore. She would not let him watch. 

She shifted to the side, feinting, and before she could reach the gun, she saw Oliver's muscular legs shoot out, his body planted in the chair, and grab Ilyich's right calf, twisting it sharply, breaking his knee, the snap loud in the silent warehouse. 

Ilyich screamed in her ear from the pain, letting her go and falling to the ground on one leg and Felicity escaped his clutch, watching all hell around her break loose. 

She reached for the gun, picking it up and turning around, training it right on Ilyich's head, her insides completely still, unable to feel anything. That stillness she had only seen in Oliver had scared her. But she did not care for it now. All she felt was the weight of the gun and Ilyich's pulse, still beating when it should not be, his face twisted in agony when it should be twisted in death.

She would have put the gun to her own head had she not been able to free herself from Ilyich, anything to spare Oliver from the devastation of watching what Ilyich had been going to do to her. Oliver would not have survived that. And she could not have survived that. She could not break him. 

But it had not come to that and she had the loaded gun ready to go into Ilyich and finally end him.

She wanted nothing more.

Everything around her became white noise. She let herself become unaware of what was happening around her, who was doing what. None of it mattered.

All that mattered was focus. Focus on the pulse throbbing invitingly in his temple. Focus on the heart that was still beating in his chest. Focus on the gunpowder she wanted to feel on her hands. Focus on that urge. That urge. To kill.

 

She breathed in softly, once, twice and let her finger rest on the trigger, feeling the texture of the metal, the coolness of it. That coldness which was resonating inside her with every beat of her heart. She brushed the trigger once, feeling the weight of it settle on her hand, looking down upon the man clutching his leg when a voice penetrated her bubble.

"Felicity."

She didn't move. Nothing mattered except ending this man right here, this man who had caused so much pain and torment to so many girls like her, so many victims of his monstrosity, so much pain in her own life and Oliver's. And he had wanted to break Oliver. He had wanted to make Oliver watch and shatter him to pieces.

He had to die. 

"солнешко."

The voice penetrated the bubble again and she turned her head sideways to see Oliver standing beside the chair, miraculously free of his ties, watching her carefully with slightly panicked eyes, one of his hands reaching towards her. She turned back to the man on his knees. 

He spit out on the ground. "You don't have the guts to do it."

Her hands tightened on the gun.

"Baby," Oliver's voice came again softly, commanding her senses to acknowledge him. "Look at me."

She did swiftly, watching him inch carefully closer to where she stood, like he didn't want to spook her. She was still cold. 

"Your father sold you to the highest bidder like the whore you are," Ilyich laughed again. "Like the whore i was going to make you. Right in front of him."

Her jaw clenched, her blood running colder. He had wanted to break Oliver. Oliver did not need any more pain.

This man had to die.  

"Put the gun down, солнешко," came quietly from the side, and she saw Oliver coming closer, his hand raised towards her. "Think of the mirror, Felicity. The mirror you love so much. Let's go home, baby. Put the gun down."

She grit her teeth, the ice inside her beseeching her to continue. She wanted to see the light go out in those dark, cruel eyes that were laughing at her. At Oliver. At every girl he had destroyed. 

"Felicity, look at me, baby. Keep your eyes on me," Oliver said in that soft, soft voice of his. 

"Yes, look at him," Ilyich sneered. "See the man who bought you from your father. Does he enjoy that body of yours? Is he getting worth his money?"

She looked at him, unable to let go of the cold. Of the stillness.

Oliver's voice came again. "Put the gun down, sweetheart. You deserve better. Put the gun down."

Ilyich laughed.

She couldn't. Her arms refused to move. Her body refused to listen. 

Oliver stepped into her space, his hand going to hers on the gun, his gentle touch jolting her. She blinked up at him as he took the gun out of her hands, and she looked at him, her eyes getting big. 

"Get her out," he spoke quietly, nodding to someone behind her and she saw Digg step forward, taking a hold of her arm. 

Digg? The relief she felt was just a twinge in front of the stillness as she kept her eyes on Ilyich. 

He laughed manically again. "You think this will end now? You think I'm the end? As long as you breathe with him you are nothing but what your daddy thought. And I would have ripped you open right in front of this man, made him watch you scream till you died, made him watch..."

Felicity lunged for the man and felt Oliver's grip on her hand along with Digg's tighten, the stillness in her aching to end the man on his knees, gnawing to crush his windpipe with her bare hands.

_"Get her out, now!"_

She felt Digg drag her away at Oliver's booming command and struggled, keeping her eyes on Ilyich.

"Let me kill him," she spoke out loud for the first time, her stilled eyes on Ilyich's grinning face.

"Digg, get her out of here," Oliver said and she pinned him  with her eyes. He looked back evenly.

"I need to kill him," she muttered in a low voice.

"You need to leave."

Digg dragged her out and she kept her eyes on Ilyich, the quiet inside her loud, aching to be felt. She didn't feel it.

She walked on numb legs outside, watching Roy and Sara but not interested in how they were injured, not interested in when Digg got there, not interested in anything except seeing the light go out from the dark eyes inside.

The urge had frozen her.

The stillness chafed her.

And she waited, watching the door to the warehouse, seeing Oliver emerge from it after minutes, limping slightly and bruised.

He nodded to Digg, whom she felt leave her side and watched Oliver reach where she stood in the darkness, his gaze intense on her face, making a ripple in her still cold waters.

_ "Don't you ever dare to do that again!"  _

His hands went straight to her face, gripping her hair and tilting her face up, slanting his warm mouth right across hers. 

It was the warmth that undid her. She felt it seep into her from where he kissed her ferociously, seeping into her muscles and blood and bones, slowly chipping away at the ice, melting it, warming her. She felt the stillness crack as a shiver wracked her frame. The stillness cracked and everything she bottled up in the last few minutes that had felt like hours cracked open, making her entire body tremble uncontrollably. 

That is when she felt him settle his mouth over her more fully, while wrapping her in his muscular arms, pulling her into his chest, warming her even more. She gripped at his biceps, anchoring herself to him in the sudden maelstrom inside her that was threatening to take her someplace she did not want to go, holding on to him to make him keep her there and not go into her own mind. 

She sobbed against his lips, her throat catching on the sound and his arms tightened around her, warming her even more, the fire diminished, the ice gone, leaving her in the flux.

"Oliver," her mouth trembled against him. "I was going to... I was..."

"Never again, Felicity. Don't you even dare to _think_ what you did inside!"

She came unhinged.

"Come here," he said softly, shushing her and pulling her into his chest completely, obliterating out everything. "We are together. It's okay."

"But I was going to..."

She sobbed harder, shaking uncontrollably and just his arms kept her from flying apart.

"But you didn't," he said firmly into her ear.

"I would have if...," she spoke into his chest.

"Just shut up, Felicity. It's over now."

It was over. 

It was truly over.

She clung to that fact and clung to him, calming her breathing slowly, letting him calm her, wrapped in his arms and feeling hers wrapped around him, feeling him so alive against her, all the stress of the longest day of her life leaving her in shreds. 

It was a good thing he knew how to patch those shreds together. 

"Take me home," she whimpered softly.

Oliver pulled back, kissing her once more, before taking her hand and pulling her with him to the SUV. He tucked her into the seat, getting on the driver's side and pulling away.

Drained, she took a hold on his hand and closed her eyes, finally able to breathe for the first time since morning.

It was truly over now. 

They were going home. Together.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
> So, what did you think?
> 
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	26. Purging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So, just one more chapter left. I'm not even going to get into how I'm coping (I'm not). I'm glad you all liked the way the last chapter turned out. I had been hoping it didn't leave an anti-climactic taste in the mouth. So, thank you so much!
> 
> I haven't been able to reply to the comments on the previous chapter and I will by tomorrow. You know your feed back is super important to me. 
> 
> And here is the chapter. Important stuff happens. *nodding head*
> 
> Do drop me a line to let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Happy reading!!!

Felicity stood, slightly numb from the multitude of emotions she had felt in the mere span of hours, watching as Digg and the doctor were trying to patch up Roy and Sara and Oliver. Roy had bruised ribs and a long cut on his forearm along with a mild concussion. Sara had a bleeding gash on her head and bruises over her neck where someone had gotten close enough to strangling her. And Oliver.

Oliver.  He had a slightly sprained ankle, cuts on his torso, deep gashes on his wrists from where he had been chained and hung, strained shoulders, a light cut on the lip, and a cut on his head that needed three stitches. Digg, who she still had no idea how he was fine, came to stand in front of her as the doctor moved to Oliver after checking Roy and Sara. 

"You okay?" Digg asked in a low voice, so only she could hear him, the concern in his warm eyes genuine. 

She took a deep breath, unable to shake of that numbness. "Why didn't you pick up my call?" she asked equally low, so that only he could hear. 

"I didn't have my phone," he said regretfully and Felicity raised her eyebrows. 

"You didn't have your phone?" she asked, hearing the skepticism in her own voice. 

Digg sighed. "I couldn't risk anyone tracking me through it and we had a plan to execute, so I left it in my drawer, on silent."

The numbness cracked. But she knew it wasn't Digg's fault and she knew, just like three years ago when Digg had stood up for her, he would have wanted to keep her in the loop this time too. 

Felicity breathed in through her mouth, keeping her voice in check. "I'm glad you are fine, Digg. I am very glad."

Digg nodded. "I'm glad you are fine too, Felicity."

Before she could nod, she heard Oliver speaking to Roy and Sara while the doctor patched him up.

"You guys fought well today," Oliver said, not even wincing as the needle went through his skin.

Roy nodded, jaw clenched. He seemed angry at not being in on the plan too. Well, at least it was a club of two now.

Sara's gaze drifted to Felicity as she walked forward, patting Roy on the shoulder like guys did with each other and taking a hold of Felicity's arm, her eyes alert, knowing Felicity well. "I am heading home, but I'll see you Saturday?"

Felicity nodded, hugging Sara carefully. 

"I don't know what I would have done without you," she whispered in her ear, squeezing her gratefully. "Thank you, Sara."

Sara squeezed back. "We have each other's back, Felicity. Always have. Always will."

Felicity let her go with a smile, waving her off and Roy left too, telling her he'd fill Thea in on everything. 

Digg went back to stand beside Oliver. Oliver, who was watching her cautiously. 

She clenched her jaw and turned on her heel, leaving the medical room without a word and making way towards the bedroom. 

They had gotten back almost an hour ago and the adrenaline had finally worn off, leaving Felicity so drained she didn't even know what to feel. So, the numbness had taken over. And now it was fading with every step that Felicity took, fading and being replaced by complete and utter rage. How dare he?

She walked in the bedroom, heading straight for the bathroom, stripping her clothes on the way, turning on the tap for the bath, wanting nothing but to soak away the entire day and push it down the drain. She didn't turn on the light, keeping the bathroom dark with only a little glow from the light in the bedroom, and stepped into the tub of hot water, tying her hair in a knot on top of her head. Sinking back into the water, she closed her eyes and rested her head on the edge of the tub, feeling the hot water slowly lap at her muscles and relax her, from her collarbone to her toes. She stayed still in the water, feeling her knots loosening but her mind was whirring too hard for her to drift off.

She felt him enter the bathroom before she heard his voice call out her name. 

Felicity. 

She had always loved her name when he said it. The word wrapped around his tongue and came out in such a different timbre, unlike any she had ever heard before, always laden with some emotion. The way he said her name had always made her feel like she had the prettiest name in the world, like her possessing that name was destined so he could say it exactly like he did. He never said anyone else's name like he did hers. And that made her feel so special. 

Right now, though, she was screwing special in her head in a hundred different ways and none of them the kind of screwing she liked. 

The jerk knew she loved the way he said her name and he was using it shamelessly. 

It didn't work. Well, it did a little but nothing she couldn't push back down. 

She kept her eyes closed and didn't even twitch when he said her name. Let him screw that in his head. 

She heard him sigh and enter the room, shutting the door behind him, and she heard him come forward but she didn't react. 

She heard little rustling of clothes and frowned internally before she felt the water move and opened her eyes to see him sink down in the tub in front of her, not caring one bit about the cuts and bruises that would definitely sting in the hot water. She moved her legs to one side, part because she was giving him space and part because she was avoiding touching him, and closed her eyes again, leaning her head back. 

His hands came to her feet, slowly massaging the balls and the arch, and oh boy it felt _really_ good and she knew he had amazing hands, but she resisted temptation and pulled her leg back. He had screwed big this time and there would be no getting off easy for him. 

"Felicity."

That name thing again. She forced herself not to react. 

Oliver sighed again and started speaking, realizing that she won't be melting to his feet anytime soon in a puddle and his wiles were moot. 

"When you gave me the list of places, I knew the place he'd be at because I had heard rumors about it before. And knowing he was so close, I couldn't not do anything, Felicity. The plan was to make Ilyich take me, thinking that I had made a mistake, while Digg worked with a few other people who owe me as backup and eliminate Ilyich."

He paused, waiting for her reaction but when it didn't come, he continued. "The plan was to lull Ilyich into a sense of triumph while actually attacking him. And knowing Ilyich had me was the perfect distraction for Digg and the guys to come in. And Digg had eyes on me the entire time. There was no real danger at all."

Felicity finally opened her eyes and looked at him, the anger inside her simmering but not spilling yet. He was watching her with cautious eyes, his face somber and his wounds patched up. She let her eyes take his face in for long moments before opening her mouth, her voice coming out neutral and conversational. 

"And you could not give me a heads up of this idiotic plan because?" 

Because he didn't want to worry her.

His eyes narrowed just a wee bit before he spoke. "Because I didn't want to worry you."

Bingo. Word for word. 

She continued in the same conversational tone. "And that genius brain of yours thought that knowing about the plan would worry me more than getting a picture of you strung up from a ceiling by none other than Ilyich. Wow, Oliver. I am truly impressed."

Her sarcasm was met with definitely narrowed eyes and his jaw clenching. "I hadn't thought he would do that."

She raised her eyebrows. 

He continued. "I hadn't thought Ilyich would ask you to come to him as blackmail. But I knew you would worry after he sent the text but it was supposed to be over before the three hours were up. But the attack on the warehouse messed up that plan."

Oliver leaned forward, his eyes burning hers. "You were not supposed to come there, Felicity! I specifically asked you not to!"

She looked at him in disbelief and huffed out a laugh that did not reach her at all. "Really? So you thought I would be just sitting here twiddling my thumbs while I knew you were in danger?"

"That is exactly what you were supposed to do!"

She could not believe him. And she could not stay beside him or she'd murder him herself.

Getting up swiftly from the tub, she grabbed the towel and wrapped it around herself, leaving him in the tub, fuming.

"Felicity! We are not done talking!" 

The bloody idiotic pig of a jackass! 

She stormed into the bedroom and heard him come after her, and before she could stop herself, she picked up her stray heel and chucked it at his head with all her energy.

He swiped it away with his forearm, his eyes flaring in surprise, before turning into anger.

"What the fuck!" he cursed, stepping into the room and she picked up the other heel, throwing that one at his chest, his injuries be damned.

"You really thought for one fucking second that I wouldn't come for you, you asshole!" she shouted at him as he ducked the other heel and strode forward angrily, limping a little on his ankle, a towel wrapped around his waist.   

She was out of heels and not out of anger so she picked up the nearest pillow and threw it at him which he flicked away angrily, coming straight at her with intent eyes. And she felt the fury seep into her bones, so much that she shook from the anger, her heart pounding in angry beats. She glared at him and started to walk away, past him, when his hand shot out and caught her arm firmly, whirling her around to face him.

"You are so mad at me, вспыльчивая моя," he grit out through his stupid clenched jaw, his eyes little orbs of fury that matched hers. "Let's talk about the stupid stunt you were going to pull."

She tried to remove her arm from his solid grip and he didn't budge at all, just staring her down. He really wanted to point fingers? Seriously?

"Well, we'll talk about that right after we talk about how stupid it was to give yourself over to Ilyich for hours!" she spit out, enraged. "He could have done anything to you, Oliver! Anything! And you effing lied to me. You promised you'd never do that!"

Her voice trembled slightly at the last word but she was yelling loudly at him, trying to get the point through his thick skull.

"I told you Digg had eyes on me," he repeated loudly. "But you, you took that fucking gun and looked at me those big eyes, telling me you were giving...."

She tried to look away but he shook her back into facing him, his eyes hard and his mouth pursed. "Look me in the eyes and tell me I didn't see what I thought I did in that warehouse in your eyes."

She looked right into his eyes, her heart hammering so loudly in her chest she was sure he could hear it, and grit her teeth. His blue eyes were piercing hers, steady and constant and she kept her mouth shut. 

 _"Fuck, Felicity!"_ he roared out, leaving her arm and turning away, running his fingers through his hair before suddenly turning to the side and punching the wall forcefully. 

Felicity's hand flew to her mouth as she saw the little blood on the light wall from his knuckles, her anger taking a backseat as she saw, truly saw, the frustration inside him.

Oliver whirled on his injured foot and strode to her, his eyes so, so furious, unlike she had ever seen before that she unconsciously stepped back, her back hitting the wall, gulping.

His arms came up beside her head, caging her in completely as he loomed over her, and he leaned down, his body vibrating with anger.

"How fucking _dare_ you?" 

He growled at her, his eyes pinning her with the intensity as his harsh words brushed over her. 

"You went into the den of the snake and you expected me not to do something about it?" she asked, trying to change the topic, get that look off his face, anything to avoid talking about how she had felt in that warehouse. 

Oliver didn't give her an inch. 

"How fucking  _dare_  you?" he asked again, looking so dangerous that her adrenaline went through her body, a shiver running down her spine.

"I couldn't let him do that to you, Oliver," she said quietly and he closed his eyes, reining in his anger.

"So you decided to just say a fucking goodbye and be done with it? After everything that we have been through, that was what I deserved?" he asked hoarsely, drilling her into pieces with his eyes.

"You didn't deserve to have to see him rape me either," she replied, feeling that tiny little flicker of shame.

His large hands were suddenly gripping her face, his own face so close she could feel his breaths, his eyes intense on hers.

"Now, listen to me, and listen very carefully," he spoke roughly, his voice hard. "You _never_ , under no circumstances, ever, think of ending your life. Do you understand that?"

Felicity swallowed and bit her lip, ghastly circumstances coming to her over imaginative brain.

Oliver cursed at her silence and spoke again. "I should have alerted you of the plan, and I am sorry. I screwed up. But do you have any idea what it would have done to me, Felicity, if something had happened to you because of what I had done? Do you have any idea how even the thought of not having you with me does to me? How it felt seeing that look in your eyes?"

Felicity's jaw trembled. "I'm pretty sure it's almost like what I felt when I saw your picture. And the three hours that followed."

Oliver remained silent for a long moment at that, just staring at her, his eyes tormented, before he spoke again. "In our world, Felicity, bad things will happen. We cannot help it. Ilyich is gone but I do have enemies who will want to retaliate at me through you. But your safety is not only my duty, it's my need. And when I fight them, I need to know that I will have you beside me and not worry about the kind of sacrifices you want to make for a man like me."

Felicity inhaled deeply, nodding. If they were on the topic. "And you're saying this even though you believe that I will leave you?" she spoke, addressing the issue that had been bothering him head on. 

His eyes widened slightly in surprise before a wry smile twisted his mouth. "You'll realize one day the kind of man you have married, солнешко."

She snorted at that. "I already did a few weeks ago. And I have still stayed. Hell, I was willing to kill myself to spare you pain. I was willing to kill another man to spare you pain. If that doesn't prove anything, I don't know what will."

Oliver's eyes stayed on her and she sighed. "You need to start believing that you are not getting rid of me, Oliver."

"And you need to promise me you'll never try to pull the stunt you did tonight."

She stayed quiet and he urged her. "I need to know, Felicity."

Sighing, she nodded. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

"I won't ever do that," she conceded. "But I will protect you too, Oliver. You're not the only one with something to lose here. And you need to be honest with me."

Oliver shook his head. "There are always going to be things I can't tell you, Felicity. This business is cruel."

"And you think I don't know that? Tonight was a first-hand proof that I know how cruel it is," she reminded him.

Oliver scowled. "You know, Felicity. But you cannot handle it. Tonight was also a proof of that. And I cannot, will not, have you over the edge."

Felicity quieted at that, thinking about it. She was strong but there were some lines she could not survive crossing and Oliver was right. She had almost gone over the edge today. And she might have come back, but she would never have been the same. 

She shuddered and amended. "Promise me to be honest about anything regarding me, us."

"I promise," he said without hesitation.

They stayed silent for long seconds before she broke the silence again. 

"What happened to Ilyich?"

She saw him stiffen as he looked down at her. "He died."

She wet her lips, wondering if she really wanted to know this. She did. "You shot him?"

"Among other things," Oliver said, his tone final and lethal and she knew he would not divulge what happened in the warehouse after she came out. 

"Why not let me shoot him?" she asked softly, and saw the way his eyes softened at her.

"Remember how I promised to protect you always?" he asked softly, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. 

"Yes."

"It meant not just from other people or me," Oliver spoke, his eyes so, so tender on her. "It meant I'd protect you from yourself too."

A small sob caught in her throat as her mouth trembled and she blinked up at him, his thumbs brushing over her lips, just gazing down at her. 

She leaned up on her toes, capturing his lips with hers in a chaste kiss, just pressing their lips together before coming down, watching him intensely.

"If I let you go, will you promise not to throw anything at me?" Oliver asked in a teasing voice that sent a wave of something intense through her body. 

She teased back but didn't smile at him. "Just myself."

His chuckle made his eyes crinkle but she kept watching him, carefully, weighing the decision inside herself.

Oliver looked at her, puzzled. "What is it?"

It was a lot. And that intensity was not leaving her, instead rolling inside her, wave after wave crashing against her skin from the inside, her heart a battering ram in her ribs. She watched Oliver, as he stood puzzled. She watched his furrowed brows and the lines on his forehead and the stitches at the side. She watched his nose he loved to nuzzle against her skin and his soft lips that she loved to kiss and his scruff that left so many burns on her. She watched him, for the man that he was, flawed and so imperfect, but so hers.

She blinked up at him, letting the words that had been in her heart for longer than she had realized and on the tip of her tongue every second of every day that she saw him, out.

"я тебя люблю."

She saw him still completely, as the words he had etched upon her skin, night after night, were spoken softly back to him. Every muscle in his body froze and she felt the way his breath hitched, his eyes clenching shut like he was trying to keep the words inside him, the grip he had on her face tightening.

Felicity was silent, letting him process this, take his time, for moments that he kept his eyes closed. Her heart was clenched but not because she was unsure of his reaction or reciprocation. She knew, deep down to her bones, that he had meant the words down to his bones. She was silent.

Until she saw an errant tear escape the corner of his closed eye, streaking down his cheek into his stubble.

That was when she moved.

Her hands went into his hair as she pulled his head down into her neck, going on her toes to accommodate his height, and his own wrapped completely around her back, pulling her so tightly into his body that she felt the slow sobs wrack his frame.

Her heart clenched for him, aching in her chest for him. Had anyone, apart from Thea, ever told him he was loved? Had the cruelty and the brutality in this world truly made him believe he was unlovable? Thea's words from a long time ago came back to her. 

_'He hates himself enough for it.'_

She knew how much he hated himself, how insecure he truly was. He had believed for the longest of time that she hated him. For a long time, she had told him so. And he had admitted to to never believing he could gain her trust, much less her love, and accepting it. He had accepted that she would never love him yet he selflessly did. She closed her eyes, moisture spilling from hers as well, as she understood the depth of his hatred for himself. 

"I love you, so, so much, Oliver," she whispered into his ear and felt his arms tighten around her even more, her neck wet from his eyes, his entire body shaking in her arms. 

He was breaking down, letting go, and she held on to him tightly, letting him, telling him that she would keep him together. He had waited so long for this. She could feel that ache inside him. It was so palpable. 

She ran her fingers through his hair as he picked her up, crushing her to him like he would meld their bodies if her could, and she held him. 

Their towels went lose and fell down to the floor as she wrapped her legs around him, but he didn't enter her. He just stood there, slowly breathing softly against her neck, his tears out and she could feel he was hard but he did not enter her at all, didn't move at all, like moving would break the moment. She blinked. Did he really feel that moving would make her take the words back?

She tried pulling back and his arms tightened, not letting her and she knew. The idiot thought she would regret saying it if she pulled back. And he was going to stand with her like this all night on that bad ankle.

"Oliver," she murmured softly, her heart melting for him. "Baby, look at me."

He didn't move.

"Please."

She felt his exhale on her neck before he just pulled his head back, looking into her eyes and she was struck by the pain she saw in them, so naked, the moisture in them so evident and the fact that he let her see him like this made her heart clench again and her hands took a hold of his jaw.

"Now you listen to me and listen carefully," she whispered, repeating his words from earlier, keeping their gazes together. "You are stubborn and rash and you make me so mad, I'm moved to violence. But you are so, so beautiful, Oliver. You are so beautiful inside, so strong. You have been through so much and still come out a better man than most. You amaze me. Stronger men have been made dust in this world, yet you held on, for so long."

"I did it for you," he whispered, his lips barely moving.

She shook her head. "Even before you met me, Oliver. You did it because you are a good man. You protect what you love, you are kind to those who deserve it, and you are so fierce. In your loyalty, in your love."

He blinked at her. She smiled at him. "I am so in love with you. For so long now."

He inhaled jerkily. "I was so scared, Felicity."

"Of what, baby?" she murmured soothingly.

He stayed silent for a second before he spoke softly. "I have never... I didn't..." he stuttered, inhaling before continuing. "I have loved you for so long from afar, knowing I did not deserve it. And I was so afraid that telling you that would make you step back, scare you away. I couldn't... I need you, Felicity." 

Felicity tightened her grip on his face. "There is no other man who deserves my love more than you, Oliver. And there won't ever be. And i don't think you see it, but I need you too. So much."

Oliver's body shuddered once before he shifted, moving them, and headed for the bed, his eyes on hers. 

He put her down carefully on the covers, and she shifted up to make space for him, opening her arms in invitation. He lay down beside her, just looking at her face intensely, searching it, his eyes roving her features and coming back to her eyes, over and over and over again and she entwined their hands together, letting him take his fill and satisfy himself. She knew he needed this. 

"Please," he whispered the word and she knew, just looking at him, what he wanted. She felt herself soften. The big dummy. 

Brushing his cheek with her fingers, she spoke again. "I love you."

His eyes fluttered close before he leaned in, kissing her pulse throbbing hard, whispering "I love you" over her skin, his lips brushing over the pulse, skittering it, making her shiver a little. 

He slowly made his way to her ear, pressing small kisses on the way. He kissed the shell and kissed the lobe, whispering an "I love you" again in his husky, breathy voice, making her stomach clench and her heart flutter.

He slowly moved down her body, pressing small kisses everywhere, interspersing each of them with a soft "I love you", making her languid and making her pulse jump in the assault of the emotional and the physical. They were intimate. He kissed the top of her breasts and her nipples and her ribs and her stomach and her navel and her hipbones and at the juncture of her legs and her thighs and her knees and behind them and down to her toes. He kissed her everywhere, not once using his tongue or teeth, keeping it just to his lips, worshiping her body and saying "I love you" a million times over, etching it on her skin and on her heart with each time.   

By the time he came back to her face, she was an emotional, writhing mass waiting for him to slide home and waiting to pull him to herself and never let go. He brushed their lips together, murmuring that "I love you" in his raspy voice over her lips, his eyes on hers, like he was making up for all the times he should have said it. 

"I love you," she rasped back and felt his mouth settle more solidly over her and him settle between her legs, hiking them up and high over his back, and slowly sliding inside her. Her mouth opened at the exquisite feeling and their tongues met, slowly, softly, entwining with no hurry as their hands caressed each other. Oliver pulled back his head and entered her again, watching her like he liked to every time, keeping their eyes locked. But this was more intense somehow, than every other time. The knowledge of finally knowing had shifted something inside him and she could sense it in every slow thrust and every caress of his hand. She could sense it in his eyes. 

The threat was gone and they were together and he was her husband. 

Hers. 

Thrusting her hips back at him, she pulled him down for another kiss, this one scorching in its tenor, all tongues and teeth and wet and his pace quickened reflexively as she clamped upon him, over and over and over again. 

He pumped his erection in and out of her, over and over and over again, his hands becoming rough on her breasts as he tweaked her nipples, the pull going straight to her core and she flexed her hips back at him, biting his jaw roughly. 

"God, I love you so fucking much," he ground out, burying his face into her neck, biting her. There he was. Her rough biter. 

She grinned at his nips, even as he pistoned his hips and spoke into his ear, scratching his back with her nails. "Right back at you, baby."

He went a little faster, peppering her neck with nips. "You are so mine."

She would have laughed had stars not started to dance behind her closed eyes. "Yes. Yes. Oliver."

He was plunging in and out of her furiously now, and her mind drifted to his injuries for a second before Oliver's gruff voice came to her. "C'mon, baby. Come for me, Felicity."

And she shattered at his command, keening loudly as her back arched off the bad, gripping his back to tether her as she clamped around him so tightly, clinging to him in her bliss and he kept at it, not stopping at all, his motions making pleasure explode in a continuum inside her and she came again in seconds, screaming his name, her walls clenching so tightly around him that he exploded inside her, a garbled version of her name leaving his lips before he collapsed on her shaking body. 

The aftermath was good. It always was. His weight on her didn't stifle her, but made her pull him closer. 

Tonight had been close. 

Tonight had been very close. 

But tonight had been big too. 

And despite the day, the month, the years they had had, at the end of the day, she had him in her body and her heart and a smile on her lips to speak for it. 

 

                                                              --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Felicity giggled as Oliver told her about his time in Rome. 

They had slept late in the morning, dead tired from the events of the day, hell the last month, and slept with relief for the first time in a long time. They had woken up entwined like they did and made love again, this time with him pulling her to the edge of the bed as he stood and her legs thrown over his shoulders as he took her ferociously. Oliver, despite being tender, would always be ferocious with her. That was just the way he loved and she loved him for it. But the new position, the new angle, Oliver's size and pace and just all round talent, and the mirror reflecting their wanton selves had made her come thrice before he had. 

It had exhausted her but she had been happy. Deep inside, feel-down-to-her-bones happy. 

They had showered together and she had taken a look at his wounds before they dressed, exchanging heated looks and small kisses, and gone down for breakfast. 

Digg and Roy and Thea had already been at the table eating and Thea had rushed forward to hug the two of them the moment they stepped in. Then, Oliver and Digg had talked about the wrap up of the entire fiasco, and how to make sure no one took over while she and Thea and Roy had discussed day to day stuff. 

The breakfast done, Oliver had pulled her to the sun-lit gardens and sat down on the grass, removing his shoes and she had looked at him in surprise, never having seen him so at ease and relaxed. She had sat down beside him, cross-legged, and he had put his head in her lap, and started talking, opening up to her in ways she had never thought possible. He told her about his mother, how she had been before she died and about his father and his cheating ways. He told her about Thea as a baby and Raisa as the woman who left her own house to look after them. He told her about when he joined the Bratva and how much he traveled and different people he met. Lots of anecdotes. 

She kept brushing her fingers through his hair, enjoying their moment, letting him speak and unburden himself, opening up about a little at least. 

"Remember that time you nudged me with you foot at your father's dinner table?" he asked after a moment of quiet. 

She blinked down at him in surprise before nodding. 

"I swear I wanted to throw you over my shoulder and take you then and there," he spoke, smiling softly. "It had been the hottest thing I had ever seen."

She grinned. "You mean my hotness quota has gone down since then?"

Oliver's lips turned up and she smacked him on the head, giggling. 

He pulled her head down by her hair and kissed her softly, making her moan. 

"Don't you have work to do today?" she asked in a breathy voice. 

"I'm taking a very well-deserved day off to work with my wife," he murmured back. 

They were just getting into the hot kissing part when someone cleared his throat and Felicity's shot up, cheeks flushing, to look at Digg looking down at them. His face was solemn and not smirky like she would have thought. 

She felt Oliver notice the same and sit up beside her, looking up at Digg. "What happened?"

Digg's eyes flickered to her before going back to Oliver, and he took a deep breath and spoke. 

"Viktor Orlov is dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> солнешко - Little Sunshine  
> вспыльчивая моя- My Wildcat  
> я тебя люблю - I love you  
> So, what did you think?
> 
> Also, if check out my other stories if you liked this. I started a new reincarnation/pirate/treasure hunt AU. :)
> 
> Come say Hi to me on  
> TUMBLR : [supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com](http://supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com/)  
> TWITTER : [@dorky06](http://twitter.com/Dorky06/)


	27. Purified

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is going to be a little long.
> 
> I cannot believe that this incredible journey has come to a close. And trust me, I am all kinds of emotional right now. When i started this story, I had no idea, NONE AT ALL, of the kind of warmth and love it would get. I had no idea that you would get so involved with Oliver and Felicity, that you would curse Oliver and hate him for breaking her heart and slowly fall in love with him as she did. I had no idea how phenomenal the response to this story was going to be and I had been so unsure about it in the beginning.
> 
> But you, my dear amazing readers, have encouraged me so much on this journey, been by my side. I have made incredible friends and met so many amazing people in this fandom because of this, and The Phoenix has such a special, special place in my heart. It was a hard story to write and emotionally draining but I loved every second of it because you did too. The Phoenix would not have been The Phoenix without any of you.
> 
> So thank you. Thank you so much, to all of you who told me you looked forward to it, and commented and liked and just read it. To all of you, you are the incredible people. You are amazing. And I thank my lucky stars everyday to be a part of such an amazing group of people.
> 
> Here is the last chapter for you. I hope you enjoy the way it is wrapped up. It is longer than most of the other chapters.
> 
> Happy reading!!!

Her mom didn't even flinch.

Felicity looked at her as she sat beside Anatoly's wife on the chair. The funeral was over. It had been over for quite some time and the entire back lawns beyond the gardens at her father's house were filled with people who had come to pay their respects to the great Bratva leader. Viktor Orlov, to the world, had been a fair, dangerous man. Only his family knew the truth about him. And that was how it had to remain.

After the news from Digg, Oliver had walked to his study, making calls while she had called her mother, first and foremost, concerned about her. And she still remembered that conversation. Her mother had been quiet, subdued but not overtly grieving. And when Felicity had asked, she had simply said, "It had to happen, Felicity. There is no divorce in our world, and I could not have lived with him knowing what he did, not just to you but to so many other girls like you. He was a monster and I would have poisoned him myself, sooner than later. I am glad I didn't have to."

To say Felicity had been stunned would be an understatement. She had been more surprised by her mother's murderous intentions that her own father's death. A death, that later Oliver had told her, had come by his own hands and Anatoly had watched as the man had shot himself in the head. He had also told Anatoly, after wrapping up at the warehouse, that there were letters for her and her mother in the drawer of his office. The letters that they were supposed to get on the day of the funeral.

The three days since had flown by. She had helped her mother with the arrangements and Oliver had been helping Anatoly transition over to Viktor's post. Anatoly himself had been torn when Felicity had met him. And she had hugged him tightly, both in compassion and relief that this man was innocent and their relationship not tainted with whatever she had been doubting him of. Anatoly had hugged her back, happy for the monster who had died but moved for the brother he had lost. Her father and him had been together since way before she had been born. She could not have imagined the kind of pain Anatoly must have been in. But he had put up a strong face and gotten back to work. The Bratva could not handle being vulnerable at a time like this, when Ilyich had died but his minions hadn't and they had to be ready and strong.

So, he had been on call with Oliver, handling the issues, weeding out the moles. Felicity had stayed with her mother. Donna Smoak had not flinched then, when she had been given the news. And she had not flinched since. She had not smiled but she had not shed a tear. Her mom was many things, but a pretender she was not. She had been enthusiastic about the funeral arrangements, much to the raised eyebrows of many people, but not Felicity. She loved her mom even more for the amazing, strong woman that she was. And she knew her mom would have poisoned her father without blinking just like she would have shot Ilyich without blinking.

And Felicity had never felt more proud of her mother as she did right then, sitting in the lawns on the metal chair, looking at the cool, composed face of her mom across from her as people started moving into the house for refreshments.

The last three days had been busy for all of them, and while she had been busy with her mother, Oliver had been busy with Anatoly. Now that the older man had taken over, the business and dealings between both of them would be more polite than it had been with her father. She knew Oliver was genuinely respectful of Anatoly and she knew Anatoly respected Oliver. It boded well for both the families and the Bratva as a whole. But with everything collapsing with the death of two major players, Ilyich and Viktor, things had started to come apart and Oliver and Anatoly, along with other men, had spent most of the last three days in the offices and studies, not even coming up to sleep in their beds.

Felicity had understood, obviously she did, but she had been worried about him. Oliver had been injured and he hadn't slept for almost three nights, which did not help his healing at all. But they had been between their and her father's house for three days and while Felicity had scooped in with her mother, she and Oliver had barely seen each other even in passing. That was how busy he had been.

She looked at him as he stood next to Anatoly now, listening to whatever he was saying, in his black suit covering his muscular body and the black tie that just made her itch to remove it. She looked at him and sighed. It had been three days since they had even spoken properly, all because of the circumstances, and she missed him. Just missed lying beside him as he stroked her spine and whispered in her ear. Waking up with him entwined around her and seeing them on the mirror. Even throwing things at him and seeing him get all riled up. She missed him.

And whatever her mother said, she knew she missed her father too. They had been married for more than twenty-five years. That did not just go away.

Felicity got up from her seat and walked towards where her mother stood in her black dress, and slowly hugged her tightly.

"I am so sorry, Mom."

Donna Smoak's arms tightened around her as she whispered back softly. "Don't be, honey. It was time for this to end. I am just so happy you married a man like Oliver."

A man who would protect his child at all costs. Felicity knew what her mother meant and she squeezed her back softly, looking into blue eyes like her own.

"You know you can come and stay with us, right?"

They had had this discussion as well. Multiple times. And her mother had had the same answer, every time.

"I know," her mother nodded, smiling. "But I won't. This is my home and that is yours. I'm just happy you are so close by."

"Always, Mom," Felicity kissed her cheek and took a step back, leaving her to speak with other guests and made her way towards where her husband and her uncle stood.

Oliver had his broad back to her but as she walked closer, he shifted slowly, making space for her beside him, sensing her presence just like she sensed his, so attuned to her as she was to him it was a surprise they were not magnets. Or maybe they were.

She stepped beside him and felt his muscular arm go around her waist, holding her close to his side as he continued speaking with Anatoly.

"So, in case if they take over? What then?" he asked in his business voice, his thumb rubbing slow circles over her hip.

Anatoly gave her a small smile before addressing Oliver in the same serious voice. "In that case they would want retribution for their leader's death."

Oliver sighed heavily, and she could feel the agitation in his coiled muscles.

Softly rubbing his back to keep him calm, she looked at Anatoly. "Is something wrong?"

Anatoly frowned, glancing at Oliver before sighing himself. "No, it is not yet. We are just preparing for a possibility."

She nodded. "We will see to it when it comes."

Anatoly smiled at her words, shaking his head. "You have so much Bratva in you, Felicity."

Felicity felt herself stiffen slightly, remembering the last words her father ever spoke to her. "Viktor said the same."

Anatoly's eyes dimmed at the mention of the man and she felt Oliver rub her back this time, in that special way of his, immediately soothing her frazzled nerves.

"That reminds me," Anatoly said, putting a hand in his jacket pocket and taking an envelop out, "this is for you. Since the funeral is over, you can read it now if you like."

Felicity stared at the plain white envelop with trepidation like it would bite her. Did she really want to read what her father had written into it? She kept staring at it for way too long, without making any move to actually take it.

After minutes, she saw Oliver's free arm come into her line of vision and take the envelop from Anatoly, putting it in his pocket.

She looked up at him, puzzled and he smiled softly at her. "You don't have to read it right now, Felicity. Whenever you are ready."

A breath left her and she felt her heart burst with the love she felt for him and gripped his shirt with her fingers at his back, letting him know she appreciated his gesture, silently.

They mingled with the guests for a little longer, but the more time they spent there, the more she could see the absolute exhaustion on his face. After almost an hour of socializing, she realized Oliver was more tired than he had let on when he leaned a little on her. And that was when she put her foot down and nodded at Digg to get the car out. They were going home and that was that.

Oliver protested a little when she led him to the driveway but she paid him no heed, getting him in the car with a forceful push and asking Digg to drive off, straight home as fast as he could. Oliver leaned his head back on the headrest and she took a hold of his hand, slowly massaging the knuckles he had bruised when he had punched the wall three nights ago, watching his profile as he kept his eyes closed and breathed in softly, just letting her work his hand.

The sun was setting low in the sky by the time they reached home and pulled in the driveway, and Oliver got down from the car with a groan, pushing himself into a walk. Felicity made him lean a little on her, which was no easy feat because lordy, the man was _heavy._ The walk from the front door to their bedroom took almost 15 minutes and by the time she shoved him on the bed and shut the door, she was panting heavily, her muscles burning with the exercise.

But she didn't stop to take a breath because she knew he would fall dead to the land of the living in a second and removing his clothes would become torture.

"Oliver?" she spoke softly, running her fingers through his hair and he leaned into her hand and purred like a big cat. He literally purred and Felicity felt a small smile lift her lips.

Quickly, she stepped in between his legs and quickly removed his jacket, throwing it to the floor beside her and then went to work on his buttons, drooling like she always did at how yum he was and marveling that he was all hers. She got the tie out and threw it to the side, along with the shirt. Then she kneeled on the floor, unlacing his shoes and removing his socks, then went onto his belt and removed it quickly, throwing them all with the other bunch of his clothes.

She looked up at him, to find him watching her with tired, half lidded eyes, and she suddenly flushed, realizing the position she was in. Which was ridiculous considering they had had oral sex, before other sex, a gazillion times. And she still flushed.

She unzipped his pants, unbuttoning them and looked up at him. Had he not been as tired as he was, she would have tried something. But now was not the time. He needed his sleep more than he needed her at the moment.

"Lift your hips a bit, baby," she told him quietly and with a huff, he did, and she quickly pulled his pants down, along with his boxers, and left them on the floor.

Standing up from the floor, she pushed him back on the bed, and he lay down quietly, just watching her through those sleepy eyes, but still watching her.

She pushed and settled him into position, pulling the covers up to his waist since he liked to have his torso free, and tucked him in, sitting beside him, softly drawing gentle patterns on his face.

"Sleep, Oliver."

With a soft kiss to his lips, she pulled away, when his fingers caught her wrist, and he looked up at her with a little more alert.

"Don't go," he whispered, his voice scratchy.

She smiled, kissing his fingers. "I am just going to change and get right in bed with you."

"Okay," he whispered, his eyes closed, his breathing already evening.

Felicity got up from the bed and threw her black, modest dress away in the pile of clothes on the floor to be looked at in the morning, kicking off her heels and dropping her underwear as well. A few weeks ago, she would not have been as comfortable in her own nudity as she was now, in this room, with him. Shaking her head slightly, she took out a t-shirt from his drawer and pulled it over her head, comforted by his scent, and went to the washroom to clean off her make-up and brush her teeth, finally ready to get in bed.

As she switched off the lights and walked to the room, her eyes fell on the envelop that had slid out from his jacket. She stopped, staring at it, that innocent piece of paper that held the words of a dead man, which still had some sort of a hold over her. But she knew she wasn't ready to read it. Not right now.

Shaking herself from her stupor, she walked to the bed and settled in beside her very naked husband and turned the lights off, settling her head on his arm and wrapping herself around him.

"Good night, baby."

His simple whisper made her look up at him in surprise, only to find his lips twitch a little.

"I sleep good with you beside me," he murmured and she kissed his chest, snuggling closer to him. Her big dummy of a husband. How could she have forgotten about the nightmares he had, the nightmares which he held back by holding her.

She felt his breathing finally even out and a soft snore escape him and she looked at him again in surprise. He never snored. Ever.

And this only meant one thing. Nothing short of a zombie apocalypse was going to wake him up.

With a soft giggle at him, she closed her eyes and slept beside him after three very long nights.

                                                 

                                               -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Felicity sat on the beach, staring at the waves and the sun going down over the horizon, streaking the sky different hues of red and purple and the rolling waves on fire. It was peaceful in a way Felicity could not really explain.

She had gotten up this morning, sated, content in her sleep, and rolled over to find Oliver still waiting for that zombie apocalypse to wake him up. She had stayed in bed for half an hour, just watching him sleep, watching his scruff that had gone without a shave for too long, and watching his eyebrows so relaxed in oblivion and his soft, soft lips. She had also seen the fading cuts and bruises on his face and his torso. The small cut over his lip. The long gash on his forehead. And she had realized that no matter how scarred he could get, she would always love him for bearing those scars and coming out the stronger for them.

Finally, her bladder poking her insistently had had her pressing a small kiss to his head and sliding out of bed, picking up the strewn clothes and putting them in the laundry basket, as she headed to the bathroom. Once freshened up and after her shower, she had changed into one of her most comfortable dresses, flowery and pink and flip flops and gone out to see him still sleeping, hugging her pillow.

Deciding to give him a well deserved late morning in, she had gone down to the kitchen, to see Thea and Roy making out and had cleared her throat, wrinkling her nose as she had picked up a bagel.

Thea had pinned her with a glance before she could even speak. "Do I need to remind you how I caught you and Ollie in the hallway the other night?"

Felicity had flushed, remembering the very compromising position they had been about to get into right before Thea had interrupted them, and then Roy had cleared his throat, effectively steering the topic of conversation to less mortifying grounds. Once done with feeding herself, since she had missed dinner last night, she had piled up eggs and toast and some fresh fruit in a bowl and a glass of juice on a tray and taken it up to their bedroom, studiously ignoring the snigger Thea gave and the smirk Roy did.

Inside the bedroom, she had just set the tray down when Oliver had opened his eyes suddenly, looking around for her, his body tensing till his eyes found her beside the bed with the tray.

She had seen him visibly relax and a wondrous look take over his face as he had eyed the tray in her hands.

"No one's ever gotten me a tray in bed," he had murmured softly and her heart had clenched. God, he needed to know how loved he was. He would have to get used to a lot of love from her.

She had smiled and tilted her head towards the bathroom. "Just go freshen up quickly."

He had freshened up and had been out, sitting on the bed in his fresh boxers while munching on a toast, his eyes focused on hers. But before he could say anything, a knock on the door and Digg's voice asking Oliver to come down had interrupted. Oliver had sighed, groaning, and headed for a shower, his face again furrowing in tense lines. He had come out in ten minutes, ready in his jeans and grey t-shirt, and left after a quick kiss on her lips.

After that, she had wandered to her own office and looked at the Bratva issues since the death of her father, the envelop burning a hole in her bag where she had put it before leaving the room. Come evening, there had been no word from Oliver and she had been bored in the house, more distracted by that letter than anything else.

So, she had told Roy that since the danger had been gone, she was going out for a drive and she would call if she needed any help. Roy had tried to argue and after minutes, she had conceded that he drive her rather grumpily.

So, he had taken out her small car and driven her to the beach as per her request, the dusk closing in on them, and she had asked him to park once they reached, telling him to stay with the car and give her her space. He had agreed to that and she had hiked her purse over her shoulder and walked to the small alcove of rocks where she and Oliver had made out after their first date, sitting down in the completely secluded area, covered from the world with only the open ocean facing her and rocks on either side and her back.

And sitting there now, watching the sun slowly be swallowed by the sea, she finally mustered courage to take out the envelop and open it, her hands surprisingly steady, as she opened the paper, her father's handwriting stared back at her as she began reading.

 

_'My dear Felicity,_

_I know you have no desire to speak with me and I know I am your culprit. But I have a lot of things I need to clarify to you. To tell you. So, I am going to write this letter to you and explain everything, things I was too ashamed to admit to you face to face. If you are reading this, that means I am dead. That also means that you may find some forgiveness in your heart for a dead man._

_The moment you were born, I fell in love with you. You were so beautiful, so precious and you were my daughter. I never wanted another child because you brought more happiness to me that anyone else could. I know I did not show this enough, but I was always so very proud of you, of the woman you were becoming. But along the way, in my own pride, I let go of my love for you. I became involved with more than one bad people, and the more I tried to get out of it, the more involved I became._

_I know you have no reason to believe this but I have to tell you. I would not just have let anyone marry you. I had done enough wrong by you and I was so involved with Ilyich by then that I knew I could not protect you on my own. So when Oliver came to me with that deal, I took it not to save my own neck but to save yours. It was the only thing i could see that would keep you safe and the only thing I thought would make me undo, even in the slightest, what I did to you without your knowledge._

_Oliver had always been an honorable man. He had been someone I respected and someone I knew would cherish you and protect you more than anyone else. The moment he entered my office that day with that deal, I knew that you had been involved during his time at our house three years ago. And looking at him that day, I saw in him what I had failed to see in myself in the mirror- a man who loved and protected you more than his own self. A father knows these things, Felicity. I did too. But I never spoke because what right did I have anymore?_

_Every time we met afterwards, my pride and my ego would not let me bend. And as much as I hated it, I could not change that. It was too late for me. But marrying you to Oliver, despite your wishes, was the only choice I had for you. That is the only good thing that came from my mistakes. I know I was wrong and I can probably admit that now because I am not facing you._

_Yes, I am a coward. And I have made mistakes. Too many to forgive. But I am also your father. And believe one thing, if nothing else, that I have loved you every day of my life, Felicity. From the moment I counted your toes to the moment you told me I was gone from your life. I have loved you and I never told you this enough. I am sorry._

_Your happiness with Oliver gives me so much happiness. You are married to a man who will never do wrong by his child the way I did by mine._

_I wish you all the joy in the world. I am sorry I can never get to see your children and even get to see you smile._

_But smile, my Felicity. You deserve all the happiness, my daughter, and remember, that while I loved you and failed you, you have a man in your life who will not. Stay with him. Cherish him._

_And be happy. I hope one day you will be able to remember me without hate._

_Love always,_

_Your father.'_

 

Felicity looked down at the paper, tears rolling down her cheeks, emotions swirling inside her. She closed her eyes and breathed through her mouth, trying to keep her small sobs in her throat. She remembered the way her father used to count her toes even as she grew up, right before he used to tickle her. She could not reconcile that man with the man she had loathed for weeks, the man who had ruined her life.

But as she reread the letter, again and again and again, she felt a kind of peace settle over her, and she realized that her father had given her something she had needed- closure. Yes, she would take a very long time to forgive him. A letter was not going to solve that. But she felt better, somehow, knowing he had written this for her with honesty. He was a coward and he admitted that and had killed himself. But even going away, he had given her this. This, she could be thankful for. She could be thankful for the little pieces that fell into place inside her.

Wiping away her tears, she smiled at the ocean, and leaned back on the rocks, just as her phone buzzed in her bag.

Pulling it out, she saw a text message from Oliver and opened it.

 

**Oliver : _Roy tells me you have been at the beach for an hour. You okay?_**

 

Felicity felt a small smile cover her face at his concern and quickly typed a response.

 

**Felicity : _Since when does Roy play Gossip Girl?_**

 

He was online and quickly typed a response back.

 

**Oliver : _You didn't answer my question._**

 

So smooth. Felicity huffed a laugh, feeling happier than she had in what felt like a really long time. Narrowing her eyes at the screen, knowing he was probably with his men, she bit her lip and typed back.

 

**Felicity : _Actually, I am not okay._**

 

The response was quicker.

 

**Oliver : _What's wrong?_**

 

She inhaled deeply, wondering if she could do this. She could do this.

 

**Felicity : _I am horny._**

 

Lord, that was cheesy. She blushed, thinking what his face must be looking like.

 

**Oliver : _So am I._**

 

Oh frack. Breathing deeply, she swallowed, feeling the slight ache in her core slowly come to life.

 

**Felicity : _What are you going to do about it?_**

 

**Oliver : _What do you want me to?_**

 

**Felicity : _I would tell you in person but since you are home..._**

 

She waited for him to reply but he didn't. He went offline and she stared at the screen, biting her lip, wondering if he got busy again. Sighing, she leaned back against the rocks, shaking her head at herself. Of course he got busy. These last few days had been hell for him and here she was, telling him she was horny and probably not helping at all. She'd just go home soon and help him relax. Maybe give him a little massage. Run him a hot bath. She exhaled, closing her eyes.

Now that she had experienced that bliss with him, she was hooked. And after so many days of no sex, she was going in withdrawal.

Her phone buzzed again. She looked down.

 

**Oliver : _Tell me in person._**

 

Felicity frowned before looking up over the rocks to see Oliver's car beside hers as he spoke to Roy, and Digg got in her small car with Roy (and how the hell did he fit?) and they drove off.

Oliver strode to the back of the car and pulled it open, taking out something she couldn't see in the dark. She suddenly felt the cool wind on her bare arms, raising a littler of goosebumps along her flesh as she saw him stride around the car and over to where she sat. Her heart started pounding as she saw him come closer, his eyes intense and focused upon her, and she could not understand what he had done at the back of the car.

She frowned at it until he came to her, and sat on his haunches, gripping her face with one hand and swooping down to peck her on her lips almost teasingly, once, before opening her mouth with his and kissing the life out of her for long, sloppy minutes, the only sounds around them being their own heavy breaths and the waves. Just them.

He pulled back and Felicity chased his mouth, trying to get him to kiss her again but he grinned softly at her, making her pout as her pulse raced through her body and the constant state of arousal she had been in for a while headed to its precipice.

"I'm glad you are so happy to see me" he said softly, shifting her over with one arm and sitting behind her, leaning against the rocks and turning her.

She straddled his thighs and looked at him, feeling the bulge in his jeans against her leg, and smiled.

"I'll be more happy to see the little you. Not that it's little. It's not. I'm very impressed by your size. I just meant..."

His chuckle made her bite her lip and stop and his face came to her neck, his nose nuzzling her skin as wind blew around them.

"I'm sorry I have been so busy lately," he whispered softly into her skin, pressing soft little kisses right on her erotic points, points he had discovered after very thorough and great research, points that even upon receiving simple kisses made her keen softly, and upon getting teeth and tongue made her whimper loudly. He knew. She knew.

"You don't have to apologize, Oliver," she said, panting softly, gripping his hair. "I get it. I read my father's letter."

He stopped, looking up at her in concern. She smiled at him. "I am fine."

He searched her face for a long time, and relaxed when he saw how truly happy she was. Then, slowly, he continued lavishing her neck and upper breasts with soft kisses and tiny nips, making her smile again, the coil of need inside her wounding tighter and tighter, his own bulge rock solid and straining against his jeans. Carefully, she lowered her hands and unzipped his jeans, his hiss of breath right over her fluttering pulse, turning her body even hotter as she writhed on him, and she freed him, taking him in her hand, rubbing over his entire length.

"Felicity," he hissed again, rocking into her hand, so hard for her that she felt a thrill of pleasure shoot over her body at his unabashed reactions.

"Stop," he said firmly, pulling his head away and closing a hand over hers, stopping her motions.

She looked down at him, puzzled. "What?"

He sighed softly. "Just wait a second before we get to it."

Felicity felt herself cooling a little, looking around. "Is the place unsafe? Is someone going to come here?"

Oliver's lips curved as he shook his head. "Hopefully the only people coming here will be us."

She blushed, clearing her throat. "Then what?"

Oliver gazed up at her softly, with that look in his eyes, that tender, precious look and her heart stuttered in its beats. Would his look ever cease to make her react like this? She really hoped not.

He looked down at her lips, brushing them slowly with his thumb before taking her cheek in his hand, his other going to his jeans pocket.

"I know this is really silly," Oliver began, his voice all raspy and masculine, sending tingles over her, "but now that everything is behind us and you are staying," a little look of wonder crossed his eyes at her staying even now before he continued, "I just thought you might like this."

"Like what?" she asked, feeling her brows come together.

Oliver smiled at her, his rough hand so soft on her face, holding her like she was so precious. "I never got to do this right with you, but I have always wanted to."

He slowly opened his other palm, revealing a ring resting in the center.

"Felicity Smoak-Queen, will you marry me?"

Felicity looked at the ring incredulously, then at him, before she burst out laughing, in loud peals at his absolute adorableness.

"Oliver, we are already married," she said, waving her left ring finger, with the beautiful wedding and engagement ring on it.

Oliver looked down sheepishly before looking up at her. "I know. And we definitely don't need any vows or ceremonies or anything. It's just for us."

She felt herself softening at his sweet, sweet gesture. "Won't my finger get crowded with that ring?"

Oliver shrugged, offering it for her inspection. No, her finger won't get crowded. The ring was just two thin platinum wires, criss-crossing each other, with no jewel or stone anywhere on it. Just a simple, yet elegant and feminine band. It was beautiful.

"Ask me again," she said softly, looking at the ring.

He spoke. "Will you marry me?"

And then she looked at him, right into his eyes, giving him her ring finger and leaning down to whisper against his mouth.

"I'll marry you every time you ask me to, Oliver Queen. My answer will always be yes."

And he slid the ring home, closing the gap between their mouths, the unhurried pace from earlier being replaced by not hurry but something more intense. They didn't have time for foreplay. They had had enough foreplay.

"God, I love you," he muttered, as she felt his big hands rip her panties away and settle her over him, his hands taking a hold of her hips under her dress, their mouths connected. He checked her with his fingers first, like he always did, making sure she would not be uncomfortable and then slid her over him. Felicity spread her knees apart and lowered herself onto his erection, taking him inside her body softly, her eyes closing at the fullness of him, something that surprised her every single time.

Suddenly, the sand gave away beneath her knees and she fell on him, his length penetrating her body to the hilt suddenly, and a scream ripped out of her throat at the sudden invasion. She felt him pulsing inside her, like a live creature, and her walls clenched around him as they acclimated, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he shuddered.

"Fuck! Are you okay?" he ground out roughly.

Felicity inhaled, flexing a little, and the sudden jolt of pleasure made her moan loudly. "I'm fucking fantastic."

He chuckled slightly, his own hands gripping her hips hard, and tilted her back slightly, away from his torso while leaning back. The change in angle, while he was lodged inside her, made her moan again, the fullness of him undeniable in this angle and position.

He turned his face to kiss her wrist, before his guttural words reached her. "Move, baby."

Breathing in heavily, she raised her hips, his hands helping her, and felt him slide across her inner muscles, her walls feeling every throb of his, every vein of his, every pulse of his. A shiver whacked her entire body as he almost came lose and Felicity held herself above him, waiting to slide down slower this time. But his hands suddenly pulled her down while he thrust up, filling her again in a second and wrenching a cry from deep inside her at the bouts of pleasure shooting through her veins. Her heart hammered so loudly she could feel it drumming in her veins, with every hit of his erection right against her core, every slide up and down and up and down and every rough breath they took.

"Oliver," she cried out, panting as she moved up and down again, his hands guiding her over his hips, their pelvises coming together and moving apart again and again. Oliver kissed her hands, her rings, over and over again, grunting and muttering her name. Her knees were burning on the sand but she did not care, the burn in her body so much more important. 

And in that moment, when he kept thrusting up into her and she kept riding him and flexing her hips and pounding on him, that moment when he bit her wrist and licked at her pulse, muttering a primitive "Mine", that moment when days of sexual deprivation and buildup spilled out from her mouth in a cry from her gut and she exploded like a firecracker in his arms, clamping on him so tightly, over and over and over again till he came, flooding her with his essence, with her name on his lips, in that moment, she fell in love with him again.

They came down from their highs, wrapped around each other, and he kissed her softly, over and over again.

"I love you," he whispered softly against her lips, looking into her eyes, his honesty, his truth, all bare for her.

"I love you," she whispered back, tightening her arms around him as they kissed again, feeling herself fall in love with him even more.

It was not only because of the sex.

It was not only because he had the most selfless heart she knew of, because he loved and trusted and sacrificed so completely.

It was not only because of the past, and who they had been years ago, even months ago.

It was a little because of the present, and who they had become on their way back to each other, who she had become with him. She liked this woman, this woman who had a husband she could trust and whom she loved more than anyone; this woman who had been unsure about everything in her life but now had one certainty for as long as she would live. They had crashed and burned and come out stronger than before. It was because of the pain and the tears and the smiles and the love. It was because it was all worth it, it had been all worth it.

It was because of the future she could now see for them, so clearly.

And right now, sitting with him, kissing him, breathing him, feeling so complete and so whole, when she remembered her father's letters and looked back upon everything in her life, she knew one thing with certainty.

He had been worth it. They had been worth it.

And she would not change a thing.

Not a single thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for being with me till the very end. You have no idea how much that means to me and how much it has inspired me.
> 
> Thank you!


End file.
